Jim's Secret
by Random Flyer
Summary: AU A different take on a world where Sentinels and Guides exist. Please R
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the Sentinel

Jim took one last sweep of his apartment before firmly shutting and locking the door. A place for everything and everything in its place, he'd checked several times before leaving to make sure that nothing was out of order, no messes left, and everything neat and tidy for any observers to accidentally wander into his home. Then, he ensured the door was locked several times to prevent those strangers from wandering anywhere and seeing for themselves the pristine condition of his loft. He was a meticulous man by nature but the habit also came from necessity and long standing practice.

Jim Ellison had a secret: he was a Sentinel. At least five of his senses were enhanced beyond the normal abilities of humans. He wasn't sure how strong or talented a Sentinel he was, he'd never been tested. He didn't know if he possessed and enhanced sixth sense like some sentinels did. He didn't even know if his career choice as a Cascade police detective was driven by the need and desire to protect others that was innate to the Sentinel character or if it was just him, Jim Ellison, that choose his own destiny. He hoped it was the latter.

Jim headed down the stairs with a swift, careful tread that left little echo in his wake and headed out to his truck in the street. From the driver's seat, he threw a brief glance back up to his loft window before turning back to the street and pulling out into traffic. It was still early in the morning and there were few cars on the road as he drove to the station. He made it a habit to get to work as early as possible and avoid morning rush hour traffic. He had no profession training and while he could control his senses for the most part, he tried to avoid any overwhelming situations if at all possible. A zone out or sensory spike would be a worse giveaway than white noise generators, overly heavy curtains, dimmed lighting, and food content in his own apartment.

In all honesty, he didn't know much about being a Sentinel at all. True, there was information and institutions out there to help Sentinels in all stages of their talents. He'd even discreetly looked over some of the materials when he first started to come online and notice his talents several years before, but that was all he did. Jim didn't want to attract attention to himself so his inquiries were general and brief. He couldn't afford for anyone to notice his interest and then notice him. As a result, Jim knew exactly two things for sure about the subject. One: that he was, in fact, a Sentinel, and two: that he didn't want to be.

Sentinels were rare and growing rarer with each year. Each year, fewer potentials were born, fewer came online, and more seemed to die. The number of potential Guides born and maturing stayed the same and what once was a relatively even number was quickly becoming skewed with too many Guides and not enough Sentinels to go around. The Guides couldn't explain it. As a result, the Guides did everything they could to protect the Sentinels they had. They made sure each Sentinel received the best training, a trained and competent Guide, and the best medical care available. They also took it upon themselves to search and find any potential and late blooming Sentinels, searching fields and careers that would appeal to a latent Sentinel like police and fire departments. Still, the numbers continued to decrease ever so slowly and no one could understand why.

Jim pulled around the corner to the police station and entered the parking garage. As he entered he noticed a van from the Guide and Sentinel Center idling near the entrance. The sight made him nervous but he also couldn't help but smirk in spite of the unease they gave him. They couldn't figure out where all the Sentinels were, but Jim figured he had a pretty good idea.. They were probably in hiding, like himself. There were probably hundreds of late bloomers, potentials, and full blown Sentinels out there that actively covered up their talents and continued to live normal lives, just like Jim. Oh, it wouldn't be enough to make up for the sudden decrease, but it would explain, at least in part, why the drop was so sharp. The Guides wouldn't find them because they operated off the idea that a Sentinel wanted to be recognized, found, and helped. Well, that wasn't always the case and they couldn't seem to understand that. It was probably the only reason why Jim had managed to get by all those years without anyone noticing his unfolding talents.

Pulling into his parking space, Jim killed the engine. He took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, preparing himself for the day to come and centering his senses as best he could. If the department was hosting a group of Guides he was going to have to be extra careful. After running through a basic relaxing technique he'd found on the internet, he opened his eyes and climbed out of the truck.

The garage was almost deserted as it was every morning when Jim arrived. He stepped onto the elevator and pushed for the seventh floor. Just as the doors were closing a voice called out to hold the elevator and he obliged by sticking a hand between the doors.

The man that came running up to the doors was out of breath but smiling. His long curly hair was everywhere and his clothes were a little disheveled as he jumped into the car with Ellison.

"Hey thanks, man," the man said with another bright smile that lit his face.

He was shorter than Ellison and carried a beaten backpack over one shoulder. Jim's first impression was college student, but then his senses seemed to shift and center on the stranger next to him, making Jim revised his original assessment from student to Guide. _Well crap._

"Don't worry about it," Jim said, being sure to keep his face expressionless and forcing himself to focus on the movement of the elevator rather than the Guide standing next to him. "What floor do you need?"

"Seven, Major Crimes. Oh hey, you've already got it pushed, that's great!" The man bounced on his toes as the doors dinged closed again. "You a detective up there?"

Jim grunted an affirmative and shifted his feet so he was on the other side of the elevator. Even if the guy hadn't been a Guide his enthusiasm would have been wearing on Jim's touchy senses, as it was the elevator wasn't big enough for the two of them.

The near non-answer didn't seem to dissuade the younger man, though. He just shifted his hold on his back pack strap and continued. "I'm going to be working with you all up there for the next couple of weeks. Hi I'm Blair Sandburg." Sandburg stuck his hand out for Jim, an expectant look on his face.

Jim looked at the outstretched hand for a moment before cautiously taking it, "Jim Ellison."

Dropping the hand as quickly as possible without being impolite, Jim put all his focus in pushing everything back to normal levels. He wasn't sure if Guides could sense Sentinels with whatever talents they had, like the way Sentinels could sense Guides, but he didn't want to take any chances. This was the closest he had probably ever been to a Guide and it was already wreaking havoc on his senses and he didn't even know if this Guide was bonded or not (though probably not). Hopefully, he wasn't acting too strange to draw the Guide's notice. Though, from the look Sandburg gave him after the hand shake Jim wasn't so sure how well he had accomplished it. This guy was going to be around for a couple of weeks? _Double crap_, Jim thought to himself. Maybe it was time to use those days of leave he had been saving.

Luckily, the elevator cruised to a stop and the doors dinged open again, giving him an avenue of escape which he took even before the doors fully opened. He hurried to his desk, leaving the younger man to find his own way to Captain Banks's office. He could feel Sandburg's eyes on him through the long path to his desk but was determined to ignore the Guide's existence from that moment onward. With any luck, Sandburg would get assigned to something that had absolutely nothing to do with Jim.

Still, despite his best efforts to ignore the Guide, Jim found himself tracking Sandburg across the room. He listened to the rustle of fabric as Sandburg moved toward Simon's office. The scent of herbal shampoo seemed to fill the large room and the hypnotic heart beat threatened to block everything out for a moment. Jim ruthlessly pushed the sound away, nervous by the impact it had on him. He couldn't make it completely disappear but he could tone it down till it was nothing more than a faint throb in the background. Having this Guide around could be dangerous; he'd have to watch his back.

I hope you enjoyed this. I don't entirely know where I'm going with it so any comments/suggestions would be welcome. Please leave a comment on your way out.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Thanks for all the great reviews and hits for this story! This story is still being planned out so all the feedback and questions help a lot. Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it!

I do not own the Sentinel.

Blair watched the man move through the bullpen and settle down at a desk, all the while carefully avoiding eye contact or even a glance in his direction. In fact, it looked as though the detective had effectively dismissed Blair's existence from the face of the earth. Still, Blair could see the tension in Detective Ellison's shoulders and posture as he sat in his chair bent over paper work.

A quick sweep of the room showed him where Captain Banks's office was located. Even as he weaved through the aisles to the door, he kept one eye on the detective, a perplexed frown growing on his face. There was something about the detective. If Blair didn't know better he'd say the man was a Sentinel, judging from the vibes he was picking up, but there were no registered Sentinels working with Major Crimes at the moment. Granted that was why he was there, to observe the department and verify that no latent Sentinels were working there unaware of their own potential. Being a Guide, Blair could sense Sentinels in a way no other person could; it was more akin to a sixth sense than anything else, which was partly why he'd been assigned to the job of locating and helping latent Sentinels find themselves and their own potential. Perhaps Detective Ellison didn't realize what he was, but that didn't make sense either. The impression he received from Ellision was more of a full blown Sentinel, but muffled and distorted, and that would be definitely noticeable, especially to a police detective. If that were the case, then the detective would have certainly reported it if only to get a Guide.

Blair frowned again as he mulled it over. He'd have to talk to Captain Banks about it when he introduced himself. The only problem was Captain Banks wasn't in yet. Blair realized it after a moment of staring at the drawn blinds and darkened room behind them. He turned around to look at the nearly deserted office and realized just how early he was. Somehow he'd pictured Simon to be the be-in-early type and in his eagerness to start, hadn't realized he'd arrived a full half hour early for his appointment.

With nothing else to do, Blair glanced around the room. After a moment, he headed to the bathroom partly to kill time. A few minutes later he was back in Major Crimes with just a little to do as a before. Grabbing a extra chair, he found by an empty desk he started going over his notes he'd prepared for the meeting with Captain Banks. He wasn't sure of what kind of reception he'd get from the captain so he wanted to be as ready and professional as possible. True, the Guide and Sentinel Center in conjunction with Rainier University was invited to work out a program with the department, but that did not ensure he would be welcomed with open arms. He knew all too well that what the powers-that-be thought was a good idea did not always coincide with what those under their direction believed.

The minutes ticked by and still the room remained just as empty as when he first arrived, the only other occupant being Detective Ellison who still refused to look up from his desk. Blair ran through his notes once, twice, and a third time for good luck. The study he was there to conduct was twofold. His primary reason was observe the department for any latent Sentinels that either had not come online or were just beginning to gain their talents. His secondary goal was to conduct research for a comparison between the law enforcement closed society and known Sentinel groups. He was hoping to discover if the protective instincts that were so typical of Sentinels could also be found in those without heightened senses. There was still quite a bit of debate within the academic world on just how much of a Sentinel's behavior was due to genetics and how much was due to social expectations and learned behaviors.

As he was mulling over the various points within the age old debate between nature and nurture, Blair failed to notice the figure approach to stand before him until a gruff voice roused him from his thoughts. "You must be Dr. Sandburg."

Blair looked up and up to the very tall, dark man standing before him. The man held a briefcase and was looking at him expectantly.

"Ah, yes," Blair jumped out of his seat and extended his hand, "You must be Captain Banks?"

The man gave a short nod and a firm shake of Blair's hand. "Yes, why don't we take this into my office?" he said before leading to the dark office.

Blair followed in as the captain flipped on the light and turned on the coffee maker, his nerves easing just a bit. The captain seemed polite enough, despite his intimidating size, if a bit on the gruff side.

"Have a seat, Doctor. Why don't you tell me what you want with my department," Captain Banks said, taking off his jacket and settling in behind his desk.

Blair paused, "You haven't been told why I'm here yet?"

"Oh, I've been told, some academic-babble about studies and looking for Sentinels that don't know they're Sentinels, but I want to hear it from you, first, in plain English, preferably."

Oh, he wanted to get it from the horse's mouth rather than second or third hand in some memo. Blair could do that. "Well," Blair started, ordering his thoughts, "You must know that over the past several decades maybe even the past century the number of active Sentinels being born has been decreasing. In the past ten years, this decline has taken a noticeable plunge. According to studies, less than forty percent of the amount of Sentinels are being born today than fifty years ago. Then add to that the death rate of Sentinels has risen and fewer are coming fully online than before and you have a severe decrease in functioning Sentinels in general."

Captain Banks nodded, showing he understood the current situation. The decline had hit police stations harder than most areas of life and crime rates had risen in the past few years as more Sentinels retired or died with no one to take their place.

Blair continued, his hands illustrating the explanation, "There has been some speculation that the increase in synthetic chemicals and medicines has had some impact in the birth, development, and lifespan of Sentinels, but there's just not enough evidence to prove at the moment. Other theories have stated that the increase in technologies that can mimic Sentinel abilities have made Sentinels obsolete and are therefore being weeded out of the gene pool. Though, how that could happen within such a short amount of time, considering how long it takes for the genetics of a population to change, especially in a species as long living as Homo sapiens is anyone's guess."

"And what does this have to do with your study?" Banks, interrupted, not seeing how the genetic development of the human race had anything to do with his department.

Blair looked up, "What? Oh, it doesn't, not directly. This is just background for reasons behind the program that the Center's developed."

"Mind keeping it to the topic?" Banks said with a sigh and small scowl, his shortening patience showing on his face.

"No, not at all," Blair said, reminding himself he probably didn't want to get on this man's bad side first thing on his first day. "You see, while Sentinel birth and survival rates have dropped, Guide birth rates have not. In fact, I believe it's estimated that for every Sentinel, active and online at this moment, there are over five Guides ready and waiting for a Sentinel. Just knowing that, you can see the problems that this will cause, is causing. So, we've started to look more carefully into the areas that would normally attract a Sentinel as a career, police departments, search and rescue, fire departments, the military, etc. We think that there maybe quite a few Sentinels out there that are latent and haven't come online yet, probably for the same reason why less have been born with the ability all together."

"And you hope that by finding them, you can prod their talents to come out and ease some of the shortage of Sentinels, right?" Banks finished for him.

Blair nodded, glad the man caught on so quickly. "It's possible that something new in modern life is repressing the Sentinel abilities so they may need extra encouragement to appear. That's why Guides have been sent out to the various departments as observers in hopes of finding these latent Sentinels. If their talents do happen to come online latter on in life then they could have more serious problems than if they were coaxed into coming online earlier. In the end, it's better for everyone."

Banks nodded in thought as he ran the situation over in his head. "And having a few online Sentinels in the department would help ease the work load quite a bit," he added almost to himself. "What about the other part?"

"I was hoping to use some of my observations as a comparison between closed societies, specifically those of Sentinel groups and non-Sentinel groups with the same goal. Like I said, there just aren't as many Sentinels for us Guides nowadays and many of us have been broadening our areas of expertise. I'm also a professor of Anthropology at Rainier University, since I haven't been able to find my Sentinel yet."

Banks nodded, leaning back in his chair for a moment. "Alright, go and get your observer pass from Vera; she's down the hall. I'll arrange for a detective to be your official liaison. Just make sure you don't get in the way and you should be fine. In fact, it would be a big help if you could find some latent Sentinels in the department."

Blair couldn't help the large smile that broke out over his face. That had been much easier than he had anticipated. As he stood up preparing to leave a thought struck him. "Actually sir, would it be possible for Detective Ellison to be my liaison? We met earlier today."

"Ellison?" Banks repeated a slight hint of disbelief in his tone, "Are you sure? I mean, don't get me wrong, Ellison is a decent man, straight as an arrow and a personal friend. He's the best detective I have, but the man is an iceberg. He likes his privacy, always keeps to himself. He's not going to be the friendliest liaison to have."

Blair hesitated, a small ping of doubt suddenly flashing through him. Did he really want to be landed with an iceberg for the duration of this study? But then he remembered the strange feeling he received from the man. There was something off about him and if it had anything to do with Sentinels then it was Blair's job to find out. "That doesn't matter, I'm sure we'll get along just fine," Blair said, a smile still on his face.

"Alright, he doesn't have a partner at the moment so he would be a good choice, but don't say I didn't warn you." Banks stood up and showed Blair to the door, pointing him in the direction of Vera's office before calling Detective Ellison in to see him.

Blair threw one last glance at Ellison catching the detective's eyes for a brief moment. There it was again, that strange sense coming from the man, suppressed but there nonetheless as Ellison cut his gaze away and continued to act as though Blair didn't exist before going into the Captain's office. Blair turned back toward the direction Banks had indicated and went to start his paper work. He'd have to keep an extra eye on that man.

A/N: That's it for this week. I generally like to update once a week, but we'll see how well I do when my class work gets heavy. Please review and offer any suggestions and feedback you think of, it helps!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all, Well, I said I'd post the next chapter and here it is. A big thanks to finlaure for the review, it really brightened my week! Thanks for all the hits

Jim was surprised the door didn't shatter, considering how hard he'd shut it on his way out of Simon's office. Not that he would have minded, at the moment he was furious. He was furious with Simon for saddling him with a liaison whose sole purpose was to watch them like lab rats for a study. Though, more than that, he was furious that he was going to have to work up close and personal with a Guide when he didn't want to even be in the same room with a Guide. Of course, Simon couldn't know that since Simon didn't know what Jim was and that just made him more angry and frustrated.

Going back to his desk, Jim sat down and glared at the paper work remaining in front of him, unable to concentrate on it anymore. Taking a deep breath in, Jim closed his eyes and attempted to calm down. He could already feel his tentative control beginning to slip and with a Guide in the building that was doubly dangerous. He had to get himself back under control before Sandburg came back and the bullpen started filling up for the day.

Making a quick decision, Jim jumped out of his chair and grabbed his jacket. He wasn't going to be able to regain control in the office, worrying that the Guide might return from his paperwork spree at any moment. He had to get out of there, at least for a little while.

Jim started heading for the elevator but stopped when he remembered how close it came to Vera's desk. He didn't know anything about a Guide's ability and did not want to risk getting too close to Sandburg right now. So, he turned an about face and headed for the stairs. The added physical activity would help calm him as well. A short few minutes later, he arrived at the parking garage and headed for his truck. He wasn't entirely sure where he would go, someplace quiet where he could collect himself.

Jim drove, taking a few streets until he found himself at the park between his home and the station. He pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Sitting there for a moment, Jim turned on the radio to an AM station filled with static, turning it down till it was inaudible to normal hearing and barely apparent to his own. It wasn't perfect, but it had roughly the same effect as some white noise generators, blocking out the minor noises from the growing traffic around him. He sat there for a while, not paying attention to the time, just focusing on his breathing and calming exercises.

Earlier in his life, Jim had not taken stock in any new-age meditation mumbo-jumbo, but all that changed when his senses came online and he became increasingly desperate to regain self control. He'd started looking into calming and relaxation techniques as almost a last resort and found they actually worked fairly well for everyday problems. Now, he meditated regularly as one of the only ways to maintain a tight control on his overactive senses. He knew some unbounded Sentinels, not wanting a Guide and hiding from the Center, turned to medications and drugs to dull the world around them. Jim didn't want anything to do with that method of coping. All too often, it lead to a world of dependence and addiction which was no better than a personal babysitter or keeper that a Guide would be; so, he'd thrown his pride and skepticism into the wind and picked up meditation.

Finally, feeling himself calm down and regain his centered control, all levels at the normal and under tight control, Jim opened his eyes and checked the clock. He'd been gone just over an hour, not too long, but he'd better be getting back to the station before anyone started asking questions. Plus, he still had to meet with his new liaison and straighten out any issues they might have.

Jim groaned to himself, thinking about the Guide he was going to have to work with for the next few weeks. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. If the kid was going to be observing the entire department then he wouldn't be hanging around Jim the entire time. Jim could even send the kid off on tasks, find ways to keep Sandburg busy and away from him until the study was done and Sandburg gone for good and woe to the kid if he put up a fuss. Jim could be a bastard better than most people and if push came to shove he'd just make the Guide want to leave him alone. Yeah, that's what'd have to do. He pulled out into traffic and headed back to the station, determined to maintain control and his cover. Things would be just fine, Jim repeated to himself despite every instinct screaming the contrary.

When he arrived back at the bullpen Jim found the morning shift almost entirely there and already starting on the day's work. Sandburg was already sitting by his desk with a spare chair, going over a large stack of papers. He looked up as Jim approached and broke into that wide smile of his.

"Hello again! Looks like we're going to be working together," Sandburg said in a bright voice.

Jim just glared, grunting in response as he slipped out of his jacket and hung it up on a peg. He maneuvered around Sandburg and settled into his seat, careful not to touch the Guide. "Just don't get in the way," he growled as he went back to his paperwork. The ill-temper seemed to have no effect on the kid whose eyes remained on him for few extra seconds before flashing another bright smile with a shrug and returning to the stack of paperwork. Jim smothered a frustrated sigh, he was going to have to play hardball if he was going to get the Guide to stay away from him, but that was alright. By the end of the week the Guide wouldn't want anything to do with him and they could both go their separate ways. At least, that was the plan.

The silent paperwork continued for another few hours without any conversation. Sandburg tried to start a few, but Jim squashed every attempted with stony silence or monosyllabic answers. He didn't even look at the Guide when he did answer, just kept his head bent down over the paperwork and focused on his reports. It was a slow day, preceded by a slow week and the only thing left for the department to do was paperwork. Jim didn't usually wish for cases, considering that usually meant something bad had happened to someone along the line, but at the moment he'd give anything for a good murder to get out of the bullpen and away from the man sitting next to him. The man who was once again trying to engage him in friendly conversation.

"Man! I can't believe how much paperwork this is creating. You'd think a job as exciting as police work would have a little less paperwork… but, then again, I guess the exciting parts would have to be balanced out by equally boring parts. You know? Every force is met with an equal and opposite one?" Blair chuckled to himself before continuing. "Did you think you'd be stuck in so much paperwork when you first started this job?"

Jim didn't bother hiding his eye roll, in fact he made it a little bigger than strictly necessary. Unfortunately, Sandbug didn't see it as he was still bent over the stack of forms. "There's paperwork wherever you go, kid."

Sandburg laughed, ignoring the rough and sarcastic tone in Jim's voice. He even ignored Jim calling him a kid, again, even though he'd specifically asked Jim not to call him that since he was nearly thirty. "Ain't that the truth! I got into anthropology looking forward to expeditions and exploring new cultures. I never would have dreamed how much paperwork teaching and research creates _and_ that's not counting all the papers I've written. That stuff I expected, it's the forms I didn't see coming."

Jim just grunted, hoping that would end the conversation. He glanced at the clock and almost groaned when he saw it wasn't even lunch yet. The day couldn't possibly drag by any slower he grumbled to himself. To make things worse he could feel a killer headache developing in the back of his head, probably from the constant effort of keeping everything in such tight control, tighter than normal, even. He spared a glance over to Sandburg hoping that his dismissive attitude was at least having some effect, but the kid was as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair as he twirled a pencil between his fingers, going over a paper filled with writing.

This was going to be a _very_ long day.

A/N: This is a little late, but class is pretty demanding lately. Reviews help me stay on time though! Please tell what you think good or bad!


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone! A big Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it definitely keeps me writing.

I don't own the Sentinel

Blair forced back a sigh as yet another attempt at engaging the detective in conversation failed miserably. The floor seemed unusually calm, if the bored expression on many detectives' faces was anything to go by. They chatted with each other and visited desks as the room seemed to work its way through a day of paperwork. All around there was a low buzz of conversations from detectives trying to work through a slow day except in the corner where Ellison's desk was situated. That area seemed to be a proverbial dead zone of conversation. No matter what approach Blair took it was always shot down, by a grunt, short reply or silence. Banks had said Ellison was an iceberg, but this was ridiculous; it was like the man was deliberately trying to be unpleasant. Blair was very good at reading people, even for a Guide and many of them could be consider empathic, and he could tell Jim Ellison was not _the _cold bastard he was pretending to be, the impressions he was picking up from below the surface were very different from the external mask being shown. They were the only things that allowed him to keep such an unconcerned and carefree front.

However, they were distorted and muffled like everything else he was getting from the man, as though they were coming through a dense fog that obscured and twisted them, hiding their true nature. Blair didn't know what to make of it. He'd never encountered anything like it before in all his years as a Guide. It only brought up more questions. He'd have to look into past cases of Sentinel medicine to see if there'd been any similar cases previously recorded.

Blair was just about to try another conversation starter, however futile, when the phone on Ellison's desk rang. It barely got off the first buzz before the detective snatched it off the cradle.

"Ellison," the detective barked without even looking at the phone.

Ellison listened for a few seconds before nodding his head and saying, "I'll be right there." hanging up the phone he stood and reached for his jacket. Blair stood in response getting ready to follow wherever his temporary "partner" lead. He wasn't letting Ellison out of his sight if he could help it.

"Where are we going?" Blair asked, shoving papers into his backpack.

"_I'm _going down to a murder. _You _are staying right here, you're not authorized to come along to crime scenes." Ellison grabbed his badge and service weapon and headed for the elevator without a backward glance at the stunned man behind him.

It took a moment before Blair could recover and follow the detective. "You can't leave me behind! I'm your partner!"

Ellison jerked to a stop and spun around in one motion, coming up into Blair's personal space. "Let's get one thing clear, Chief. We are not partners. I don't have a partner."

"You're my liaison, then," Blair cut in before Ellison could go any farther. "I'm here so I can make observations for a study approved by _your _boss and I can't observe anything by sitting at a desk." This was not entirely true. He could make plenty of observations just by sitting in the bullpen, but that wouldn't help him stick with Ellison.

Jim wasn't buying it, though. "You're here to observe the entire department, interactions within the group or something. You can't do that if you stick with one detective the entire time. You're not coming." Then Ellison turned again and stormed toward the elevator, opening the doors with a push of the button.

"I also need to see how your department and others interact with each other. I'm not going to be able to do that from one office floor," Blair protested, following him to the elevator.

"Not my problem, Chief. You're still not cleared to go to active crime scenes. If you don't like it, talk to Simon." With that the doors slid closed, cutting off the conversation without another word.

Blair glared at the double metal doors. He hadn't thought that Ellison had been paying that much attention to what his study was on. Damn. He'd have to talk about this to Captain Banks. He didn't want to tell anyone about his suspicions until he had proof of anything but it looked like he didn't have much of a choice. If Ellison did have latent Sentinel abilities and they came online suddenly he could get himself or someone else hurt or worse. It was too much of a risk. Blair spun around and headed Simon's office; maybe he could talk the captain into letting him in the field without revealing any of his suspicions. It was worth a try.

*********

Ellison climbed into his truck, slamming the door closed with more force than necessary, making his headache throb painfully for a moment before he pushed it down. He glanced over the cab as per habit, ensuring everything was the way he had left it only a few hours ago. Pulling up to the exit from the parking garage Jim glance right checking oncoming traffic only to find himself staring into a mirroring pair of large blue eyes. He rolled his eyes in exasperation before craning his neck to see around the large black feline that now sat in his passenger seat.

"What do _you_ want?" Jim nearly growled, sounding very much like a jaguar himself.

The large cat didn't answer, it never did. It merely sat and stared at him with a knowing gaze. When the panther had first appeared to Jim, shortly after the surfacing of his senses, he hadn't known what to make of it. He didn't know if other Sentinels saw animals that no one else could see or if it was something particular to him, like insanity. He had heard somewhere something about spirit guides looking over Sentinels and Guides as a rule, but wasn't sure how much he believed it. Either way, he saw the cat and worse, the cat knew he could see it.

Since then, the cat had appeared to him many times. Usually there was a reason, some danger to avoid, a threat to handle, or decision to make. Then other times it seemed like the cat just appeared for no better reason than to harass him. In the past couple of years, though, it had become more of a comfort than anything else. Jim would never admit it, especially to the fur ball, but, much like taking up meditation, he'd gotten to like having the spirit around sometimes. If he could get by with his meditation and an oversized housecat stopping by to stare at him, then, hopefully, he could avoid the unwanted addition of a personal babysitter and all the extra regulations governing the personal lives of Sentinels that came with them.

Jim threw another glance at his passenger while stopped at a stop light. "If this is about that guide back at the station, you can forget about it," he said, continuing their nonexistent conversation. Did talking to spirit animals count as talking to himself?

The jaguar lowered its head ever so slightly.

"You know what happened to that guy across the street when they found out he was a sentinel?" Jim asked the cat, feeling it could use a reminder of the real world, "They forced him to move out of his apartment and into some sentinel nursing home that was "safe" according to them. 'For his own good' they said, his own good my ass."

The panther merely continued to stare, but Jim didn't notice. He was focusing on driving through the pot-hole ridden streets of Casacde's "troubled" district. Besides, he had gotten used to the one-sided conversations, albeit reluctantly.

Jim let a moment of silence drag out in the cab as he looked for the correct address. Spotting it he slowed the truck to a stop. "I don't know exactly how things work in your little jungle world, but here in real life it's more complicated than that. If you don't like it, find yourself another sentinel, one that'll roll over and hand over their whole life to some social organization," and with that Jim killed the engine and slid from the truck. A quick scan of the passenger's seat, though, had shown it as empty as when he first got into the truck. Jim shook his head and started up the walk to the house now crawling with uniforms.

_Damn cat_.

He could smell the blood before he even reached the door, one maybe two victims, upper floor. Jim took a moment to prepare himself before going into the house. Everything felt relatively in control besides the headache lingering in the back of his skull, but he wasn't going tempt fate by charging into a fresh crime scene. He took the opportunity to get a good look around the outside of the house and make some initial observations. The yard was patchy with dirt and dry grass, bits of rusted tools peeking out from the dry tufts. The lopsided porch was splintered and peeling a dirty white paint that matched general state of the door. The windows were old and dirty around the edges from months of semi neglect.

The air floating through the open door hung with mildew, dry rot, dust, and a heavy over layer of blood. Still, he'd been to worse crime scenes, places next to ripe dumpsters and in abandoned buildings used as outhouses by the local bums. Jim could handle this; it would just take concentration like everything else. Taking a slow breath and double checking the dials one last time, Jim stepped into the house with a short nod to the officer guarding the door.

The inside was much the same as the out, with old, worn furniture and a drab atmosphere. The curtains hung limp in faded colors and the couch swayed in the middle, its fabric covering wrinkled and oversized. An old TV with a cracked frame stood in the corner on an equally old stand. To one side, there was a bookshelf with a set of home repair and cook books, but the layer of dust didn't provide much hope for their being used. His eyes picked up everything from the rag rug lying stained and crooked on the floor to the dirt and grime in the corners of the room. To the left a narrow set of stairs ran to the second floor and he could tell the scent of blood originated from that direction.

Jim followed the scent to the main crime scene in a small bed room on the second floor. Two bodies, a young woman and man, lay haphazardly on the floor and across the bed, gunshot wounds decorating each. The spray was staining the faded wall paper while the thin carpet and old bed displayed two large pools of sticky blood. With the two windows closed tight, the smell was nearly overwhelming in the cramp room. It made Jim want to gag and choke, but he forced himself to breath the metallic air normally, focusing his attention to scanning the room for any clues to the perpetrator.

Notwithstanding the blood and bodies, the room looked no better than the rest of the house. Kneeling down by one of the bodies Jim bent to get a look under the bed, checking for anything missed by the initial sweep. A glint in the corner caught his eye and he focused in on it, craning his head to see better. It was metal and small, a long thin needle partially sticking into the carpet from where it dropped on the other side of the bed. It looked as though the girl may have dropped it from her place on the bed…

BAM.

The sudden noise of someone stumbling on the narrow stairs jerked Jim from his knees. He blinked in the suddenly bright room as he realized what had happened while trying to covered up his start by fiddling with his gloves. He'd zoned on the needle. It hadn't been deep or long, but he couldn't deny it was a zone. Jim discreetly checked around him to see if anyone had notice. The lack of attention directed his way did little to calm his nerves. If the clumsy officer on the stair hadn't tripped he could have gone deeper, perhaps fallen over and passed out and that would definitely have attracted attention.

He hadn't had a serious zone out for almost a year and never in public. Still, it was a constant balancing act, small things like this only served to remind him how careful he had to be. For a brief moment Jim almost wished he could get a guide, if only to not have to worry about it anymore, allow himself to rest and know someone would help look out for small dangers like needles hidden under beds at crimes scenes. Jim pushed the idea away immediately. There was no point dwelling on it since it wouldn't happen. Who was it that said "those who give up their freedom for some safety deserve neither'? He wasn't entirely sure, but he did know one thing, they weren't taking his freedom from him, not while he still had a say.

From the corner of his eye, Jim thought he saw a long black tail move behind the bed, but he ignored it. Instead, he focused on the pounding through his skull. He took a deep breath, held it and slowly let it out, turning down the pain until it was a dull throb in the background. The pain wasn't gone, and he knew he'd have to deal with it later, but for now he could focus on the job at hand. Jim bent his head to the crime scene and started his work. If he was lucky and careful he could get out of there relatively quick and then maybe go listen to some more static on the AM channel by the park. Either way, he wasn't planning on going back to the station and the curly haired trap-spider waiting at his desk anytime soon.

A/N: There you go! Sure it's late but it's longer so that's got to make up for the tardiness, right? Thanks for reading! Reviews definitely make me write faster and I'm running out of prewritten stuff. So leave a review on your way out!


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! Sorry for the late update. I won't make any excuses for it (though I had some great ones lined up). Thanks for all the awesome reviews and favorites. They really keep me going!

Please excuse any mistakes. I don't own the Sentinel or anything else that makes money for me.

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Blair looked up from his place at Ellison's desk for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, hoping the footsteps he heard were Detective Ellison returning from his crime scene. He frowned when he saw it was only some other hapless detective staggering under a pile of files. The excitement of running into a likely candidate for a sentinel on the first day, hell, the first ten minutes of him being in the building had quickly worn off when Captain Banks explained why they couldn't have some untrained academic running around live crime scenes and possibly contaminating evidence.

"I'll be really careful!" Blair found himself promising, like some kid begging his dad to handle his prize baseball autographed by Babe Ruth.

Banks only shook his head, "Doesn't matter, you know how clever criminal defense attorneys can be? They find one little thing that could have gone wrong with evidence collection and there's the case down the drain, and it's been getting worse in the last couple of years. You can do your research just fine here in the office and then, later on if, and only if, you've proven yourself trustworthy, you might be able to go out to a few crime scene and take a gander or observe or whatever you anthropologists do."

Blair could see nothing was going to change the police captain's decision, but he had to try anyway. "But I think Jim Ellison himself might be a latent sentinel. How can I verify that if I can't see him in action?"

That caught Banks attention. "Jim? Is that why you were so interested in having him as a liaison?" Banks shook his head. "Hate to tell you this, kid, Jim took those sentinel aptitude tests before going into the academy just like everyone else, failed every one. Besides that, he's got to be one of the most insensitive men I know."

Blair choked back a sigh of exasperation. "Being a sentinel does not mean you're going to be sensitive emotionally and Detective Ellison has one of the highest closure ratings in the department. He's been cop of the year for the past four years! Shouldn't that indicate something?"

"It indicates that Ellison knows how to do his job and is a good detective." Simon nearly snapped back, his earlier sarcastic joke going unnoticed, "There have been detectives with excellent closure rates before that weren't sentinels. It is possible, you know."

Blair shook his head. "That isn't what I meant. I just meant that it could be additional proof that there might be another reason why his closure rate is so high."

"Doesn't matter," Banks said, dismissing the fact, "I'm still not going to let you jeopardize the chain of evidence by tramping around open cases like some wild life observer on the discovery channel! If you think he's a Sentinel you can observe him just fine here in the office. It's not as though he could turn that sort of thing off and on like a light switch, right?"

Blair gritted his teeth and muttered a reluctant agreement. If Jim really was a sentinel, especially a latent one, he would not be able to control when his acute senses came into play. Nevertheless, Blair was still silently fuming about it an hour later as he waited for the detective to return. He wasn't sure how long inspecting crime scenes usually took, probably several hours at least. He was just being impatient, Jim wouldn't be back for a while yet. He should be using this time to observe the other members of Major Crime. If there was one, perhaps there were two Sentinels. He'd be ecstatic if there were two; it was possible, it had happened before. Blair looked around the room at the surrounding detectives willing himself to pick up anything that could indicate a sentinel. Or he could be overestimating his luck for the first day.

Blair glanced back to the door in another attempt to will the Detective back to the bullpen. It didn't work, much like the five previous attempts. Leg bobbing up and down, Blair forced himself to focus back on the notes he had begun making. With the paper work completely done and Detective Ellison not around to talk to, Blair had begun the observational notes for his study, or at least attempted to. He was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the social interactions within the department when he had a potential Sentinel under his very nose. The observations he had managed to put down were general and so common they were practically useless to either aspect of his study. A quick tour of the bullpen to introduce himself proved how closed a society the police department could be. Many of the detectives were polite, some not so much, but all were just as displeased to have him there as Detective Ellison. He'd have to work to gain their trust if he was really going to learn anything.

Tapping his pen against his note book, Blair let out an exasperated sigh. On the desk Ellison's phone rang and went to voicemail. Blair stopped and stared at it. He _was_ sitting Ellison's desk. With a quick glance around, Blair opened a few drawers, scanning the insides as quickly as possible. He wasn't really invading the detective's privacy, just taking a quick look. Still, he didn't want to explain to anyone why he was looking through their coworker's desk.

Not that it would have made any difference. The closest articles Blair found that could be considered personal were a large bottle of aspirin, a dark pair of sun glasses, and a box of ear plugs. All of which could indicate Ellison was having difficulty with unpredictable sense but also be explained by Jim's occupation. Headaches would be no stranger to a stressful job such as police work. Many people owned sunglasses, and detectives all spent time on a firing range using ear plugs. Other than that there were no pictures, no personal items, nothing that indicated a life outside work.

Blair winced as he closed the last drawer harder than he intended to, looking around to see if anyone noticed. A few people glanced in his direction, but none commented. With nothing left to do, Blair turned to Ellison's computer. Perhaps he could find something about the strange vibes he was picking up from the detective on the internet. Opening the browser, he glanced at the clock and bit back a groan. It was barely lunch time; this was going to be a long day.

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Jim dragged himself into his loft. Only ingrained habit ensured the keys landed in their basket and the door bolted behind him before he fell onto the couch. It was hardly past five in the afternoon but he was exhausted. The crime scene had taken hours to process, though the crime itself seemed straight forward enough. It was the large amount of evidence they found that took most of the time, beginning with the nine bullets buried in the walls and floor and ending with the two cases of cocaine they found hidden in the attic. Now it was just a matter of finding the person responsible, something easier said than done in most cases.

Finding the drugs in the attic hadn't been too much of a surprise. The area was know to have a problem with drugs and gangs. If they were lucky they would be able to trace it back to its origins and shut down some of the trafficking going through the area. The discovery had also brought Vice into the mix and while Jim didn't usually like sharing his cases with anyone, in this instance he was glad. They'd take a chunk of the work load and he wouldn't have to run himself ragged and risk slipping up in front of Sandburg. Besides, he was dead tired, keeping his senses at an average level seemed to take an extra effort with the guide around and he'd only spent a few hours in the man's company.

Jim flipped off his shoes before pulling his legs up on the couch. He wondered if it was normal for Sentinels to have trouble controlling their senses around guides. Maybe it was a subconscious thing, knowing they had someone to bring them back if they went to far. He thought he remembered reading somewhere that the subconscious played a big role in Sentinel behaviors. One thing was certain, he was going to need to get more information. In this case, not knowing could tip his hand and get him in serious trouble. He'd have to find out more about Sentinels and especially Guides if he was going to avoid drawing attention.

The curtains were still drawn from the morning and the lights still out, throwing the room into darkness despite the early hour. A huge yawn stretched Jim's mouth. All he wanted to do was take a moment to rest, but he knew he'd be up in ten minutes from the ever constant noise of the city around him. So, Jim forced himself off the couch and pulled out a few white noise generators and placed them around the room, particularly near the windows; that done, he lowered himself back on the couch.

The digital clock showed 5:30 from its display in the DVD player. Jim frowned at the bright red glow before tossing a pillow over to cover the display. For a brief moment, he thought about Sandburg still sitting at Jim's desk waiting for him to come back. Jim felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought, but quickly brushed it aside. The kid was supposedly smart; he'd find something or someone else to occupy his time. Plus, if he got mad enough about being ditched on the first day maybe he'd ask for another liaison and Jim wouldn't have to deal with him so much. Somehow, Jim didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of his new observer. Still, he could hope.

Giving up on the whole line of thought, Jim closed his eyes and settled into a familiar breathing pattern. He'd deal with the guide later. First, he'd get a few hours sleep then do a little research into Guides and whatever freaky powers they had. If he timed it right, he could get to the library just before it closed when no one was around except sleep deprived college students. Jim vaguely recognized the dark outline and glowing blue eyes of a large cat before drifting to sleep.

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A/N I hope you liked it! Reviews make me write faster :)


	6. Chapter 6

First off, I'd like to thank everybody who reviewed, especially those who gave me constructive feedback. Myrna, thanks for the grammatical corrections. I'm in the middle of a very intense language course right now and it's destroying my English something fierce.

A couple of you asked for longer chapters so I will start putting up longer chapters, but I'll warn you that will probably make the updates come a little slower.

I do not own the Sentinel.

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Blair slammed the van door, for once not caring about the abuse on the borrowed vehicle. He pulled out the key, jammed it into the ignition and over turned the engine before stopping himself. Breaking off the key wouldn't help anything, neither would driving off into traffic in his current state. Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, he forced himself to take a deep breath and slowly release it.

The day had been one of the longest and most frustrating in Blair's long term memory. What had started as a promising and exciting morning had quickly turned into an exercise in futility; first, with Ellison ditching him before the day really started. Then, when it became apparent the detective wasn't returning anytime soon, Blair had tried to interact with some of the other detectives, getting next to nowhere in the close knit group. As a final effort, he tried helping out with a few computer problems on the floor and suddenly found himself regulated to "computer repair man". True, it got him farther in his observations than "nosy outsider" but not by much. Now it was coming up on ten o'clock and he had nothing to show for the entire day except for a floor of updated and defragmented computers. At least Simon would be happy.

Feeling calmer, though no less frustrated, Blair finally deemed himself fit to drive home. A quick glance at the clock and Blair changed his mind. If he hurried, he could make it to the library twenty minutes before it closed at ten. The information he'd gotten from the internet, while abundant, was also highly suspect. The field of Sentinel studies had its share of crack pots, more even, since there were still aspects of Sentinels and Guides that were unexplained. Added in combination with the uncensored and free nature of the world wide web and you were left with more false and inaccurate information that Blair was willing to sift through. He'd found a few legitimate looking papers, but the library would have more reliable sources.

Decision made, Blaire hung a left leaving the parking garage. The streets were quiet at that time of night and it wouldn't take him too long to get to the library. If he just pulled everything he could find on Sentinel medicine, auras, and spirituality then he would have time to go over it later in his apartment. Blaire glanced over his shoulder into the rear compartment as he sped through a green light and empty intersection. He'd have plenty of room, now he'd just have to worry about the maximum limit of books he could take out at once. Blaire shrugged to himself as he pulled into the library parking lot. The yellow street lights shown down on the almost deserted stretch of tar and concrete. If he had more, then he'd just have to sweet talk the librarian into letting him bend the rules a bit. Shutting the door much more gently than when he initially got in; Blaire locked the van and jogged into the library.

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Jim wished he had more time. He hadn't realized when he came to the library that their Sentinel and Guide reference section was so large. The hour before closing he'd given himself simply wasn't going to be enough. He'd managed to narrow down his search to a set of three very long and very full bookcases using the library's computer, but hesitated at asking for any help from the librarian. He didn't want anyone to know he'd been there looking in the Sentinel and Guide section; that meant no one could see him come in or out and he couldn't check out any helpful books he may find. Fortunately, being a Sentinel gave him almost photographic memory; he'd learned that in one of the books he'd glanced over at the start of his search. He'd never thought of it before, but he did have an excellent memory with almost perfect recall. It could probably be improved if he had a guide to help him, but that wasn't an option. Unfortunately, having near perfect recall did not mean he understood anything he remembered but that was something he could remedy later.

Running his finger down the line of thick and thin volumes, Jim scanned the call numbers. The library was blessedly quiet with almost no one remaining at the late hour. The children's section was long since deserted and all but a few computers were shut down, the remaining few standing silently on the main level and scattered over the upper floors with bouncing screen savers. Even the sole librarian on duty was silently reading her book down on the first floor. Besides the unnatural florescent lights it was actually quite nice. Perhaps he'd come back at the same time later when he didn't have any covert research projects to conduct. The soundproof rooms at the far end of building looked promising.

Finding his intended book, Jim stopped and pulled it from the shelf. It was nowhere near as thick as some of the extensive research guides lined on the shelves, just a basic introduction to Sentinels and Guides. Thumbing through the sections, Jim decided the book looked comprehensible enough. He flipped to the table of contents and scanned the chapters. His eyes moved down the list from "Societal Guardians: An Introduction", past "Sentinels: Protectors of the Tribe" to "Guides: Protectors of the Guardians", page thirty-four. Jim turned to the chapter and began reading the introducing paragraphs.

"The role of the Guide, unlike the relatively consistent role of the Sentinel, has undergone many shifts within recorded history and between societies. In the past and other cultures, it is seen as a purely supportive role, passive and subservient to the guardian position of the Sentinel. However, with a more holistic understanding of the Sentinel/Guide relationship and role, that position becomes equally important. It is the role of the Guide to protect their Sentinel and other Sentinels…"

Jim rolled his eyes as the introduction continued, explaining the importance of Guides to protect Sentinels from their own senses. Ignoring the urge to just put down the book and walk out of the library, he instead scanned the remaining text for any mention of a Guide's abilities. The chapter didn't go into great detail about any particular talent common among Guides. For the most part it seemed the only real definition of a Guide was a person who was able to establish a deep psychic bond with a Sentinel. It even mentioned a few cases of individuals who didn't know they were Guides until after a bond had been established with a Sentinel, often a spouse or family member. However, those cases were few and far between.

In general, it seemed most Guides possessed empathic abilities, able to read emotions and intentions of those around them, the strongest signals often coming from their Sentinel. Many Guides also seemed to experience some form of premonition, anticipating problems for their Sentinel before they had a chance to arise, though the skill often developed after the Guide bonded. The most alarming to Jim was the apparent ability to sense latent and full Sentinels. If that was true, then Sandburg could already know Jim was a Sentinel, which was a problem. If Sandburg knew, he would tell the Center, but no one had approached him all day. There were no messages for him when he returned home and no calls through his nap. Perhaps Sandburg only thought he was a latent Sentinel. If that was the case then they'd arrange tests at the Center for him to take, a process which could take several days. Plus, Sandburg wouldn't be expecting a Sentinel to hide his abilities so there would be no reason for the Guide hurry. There was no doubt the Sandburg did suspect something, the side glances he'd received and the liaison assignment proved that. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how much the Guide knew, how much he suspected, and what he had missed.

Jim was so caught up in turning the problem over in his mind he almost missed it, the gentle thump-thumping that slowly appeared in his peripheral hearing and growing in volume. Even when he first became aware of it, he almost dismissed the sound but the full meaning of the steady beat hit him a moment later.

"Shit!" Jim cursed to himself, his head jerking toward the sound of Sandburg's heartbeat.

Jim frowned as he turned his attention to it. He'd never been able to recognize an individual's heartbeat so quickly before, perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it was a Guide as opposed to a regular stranger. In any case, it was still in the parking lot. With a little focus, Jim could pin it easily. Sandburg was just turning off his van which meant Jim only had a few moments to get out of the section and out of sight. He didn't know if Sandburg was coming to this particular part of the library, but he didn't want to take chances. He glanced down at the book still in his hand, there was a copier a few rows over against the wall if he hurried he could get a copy of the relevant pages and be out of there in time.

Jogging to the copier, Jim flipped the book on the glass, not bothering with the guidelines for the pages. He copied the first several pages of the Guide chapter, jamming his thumb into the button. He tilted his head listening in to check with Sandburg's progress. The Guide was currently at the front desk trying to talk the librarian into letting him borrow more than the eight book maximum. Making a quick decision, Jim flipped through the book scanning for any other useful information. He copied over the first few pages of the Sentinel chapter, then a couple from the sections dealing with zone outs and spikes as well as syndromes commonly developed by Sentinels without a bonded Guide.

Sandburg was on the stairs, tromping his way past the first floor landing. His steps were slow and measured, echoing off the walls of the stairwell. Jim grabbed the copies he made and head back for the rear stairwell, leaving the book in the copier. There wasn't time to return it. Sandburg's heartbeat almost seemed to be filling Jim's hearing and he vaguely wondered if it was stronger now than it had been at first that morning. He could hear the door opening from Sandburg's stairwell just as he slipped into his own escape exit. Jim hoped those psychic radars Guides had didn't work over distances as hurried down the stairs and out of the building. For a moment, he almost thought someone was watching him, but he forced himself to keep walking at a calm pace across the parking lot. If someone was watching him then turning around would only confirm his identity. Besides, as far as Sandburg knew no one else had been in that section of the library for the past several hours.

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The library was getting ready to close. Blair made it with barely ten minutes till closing time thanks to a red light that refused to turn for no apparent reason. Part of him was almost glad as he dragged tired limbs up the stairs to the Sentinel Studies section. Talking the librarian into letting him take home more than the limit of books had used his last bit of energy and patience for dealing with people. Thankfully, the library seemed almost devoid of all other life, just himself, the librarian, and someone rummaging around in the Sentinel section.

Blair paused for a moment, frowning as his brain finally caught up with the meaning of that last thought. There was someone else in the upper floor. He could pick up the emotions vibrating off the walls with more ease than he'd ever done before, the strongest being a sense of urgency and fear. He opened the door to the floor and immediately peered around, looking for whomever he'd sensed.

The floor seemed as deserted as the rest of the library, the strong emotions now coming from the stairwell in the back of the building. He went to the window, guessing the mystery person was just leaving the building. The back parking lot was drenched in dim orange light and though Blair didn't have Sentinel sight he could still make out the lone figure moving quickly to a truck parked in a dark corner. Blair frowned to himself once more in confusion. The figure was Jim Ellison.

Ellison didn't look back, just went directly to his truck and drove away, but Blair recognized him nevertheless. Remembering the time, Blair turned from the window, his mind still on Ellison. The man had definitely been the one in the Sentinel section, there was no doubt to that, but it just raised more questions as well as suspicions.

As he headed back to the shelves, Blair's eyes fell on the newly awakened copier standing against the wall. The cover was propped up by the book still pressed face down against the glass. Blair went to it and pulled the book free, scanning the title and a few pages. He could still feel the faintest empathic traces residing on the book, which was very strange. Usually, he had difficulty picking up empathic signals after a person left the area, but he had no doubt this was the book Ellison had been looking at and copying from, even without the strong physical evidence of the fact.

The book itself was a simple introduction to Sentinels and Guides. It didn't seem to go into too much detail on any aspect of the subject but it gave a basic overview of the history, roles, relationships, purposes, and other parts of the Sentinel and Guide existence. Perhaps, if Ellison was a developing Sentinel he was looking for information that would help him understand what was happening to him. Ellison did seem like the type to look for answers on his own before asking for help. Still, if Blair approached him first and offered help that could break through the detective's outer shell. Or it could completely piss the older, stronger, larger man off and Blair could find himself beaten into a bloody pulp of Guide smash on the floor.

Blair was still running the situation through his tired mind when the librarian came up behind him. "Hey, are you coming down? It's ten already and I need to close up and get home."

Blair jumped slightly, spinning to face the woman, "Yeah, just let me get a few books, I'll just be a minute." He sat down at the nearest library computer, relived when the blank screen came to life with a touch of the mouse.

The librarian frowned, the red of her lipstick accentuating the action. She must have been the youngest and newest employee there, getting the latest and worst shifts. "Ok, but I'll be waiting down at the desk, make it quick, and turn out the lights when you're done."

Blair nodded and waved a hand before typing in his search parameters into the online catalogue. He grabbed the first ten books he found on the list and hurried down to the front desk. Nearly all the lights were out and the woman stood behind the desk, tapping foot waiting for Blaire to finish. He gave a guilty smile before dumping the books on the counter and waiting for her to run them through the system. All the while he ran his plan of action through his head. Tomorrow, he'd get into the station early, find Ellison and stick to the man like glue. Crime scene or no crime scene, Blair wasn't going to let the man out of his sight. He'd wait for Ellison to come to him first, but if that didn't happen by the end of the day, he'd confront the detective about the possibility of his being a Sentinel. What was the worst that could happen?

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A/N Well, there it is. I hope you liked it. It's little longer than my other chapter and I will work on making them progressively longer as I continue with the story. I'll also try to make sure I don't post anymore plot-less chapters. Reviews make me write more and faster! I appreciate any comments or constructive criticisms I get since they help me improve my writing. So Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: First off, sorry for the long wait. Things got a little crazy with my classes and the chapter was being difficult. The good news is it's much longer than all my other chapters. ^_^ Secondly, Thank you! Everyone who sent a review and alert. Every time I got another message it was like an extra kick to keep writing some more. I very much appreciate it. ^_^

This chapter, like the rest of my story is unbeta'd so I apologize for any mistakes I left behind. I also still do not own the Sentinel.

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For the first time in a long time, the alarm woke before Jim Ellison. It shrilled to life with a certain amount of mechanical glee at finally being the first up on a week day. The sudden noise, cutting through the haze of numerous white noise generators jerked Jim out of his exhausted sleep. His hand shot out in a knee-jerk reaction silencing the whining beep with a heavy smack. Lying for a moment, he dragged a hand over his face, scrubbing away the sleep and grogginess still filling his mind. Forcing himself up and out of bed, he stumbled down the stairs and to the shower.

Jim had spent a large portion of the night leafing through the information he'd gotten at the library about Sentinels. In addition to that, he'd done a preliminary background check on his new Guide tag-along on the internet. Though some of it seemed a bit technical, at least for his tired brain to pull apart, none of what he'd learned the night before was very encouraging.

Apparently, Blair Sandburg was a relatively well known and talented Guide in the Center. He'd written numerous papers both in the fields of Sentinel Studies as well as from an Anthropological position on the topic. The man was also noted as being very talented with several abilities associated with Guides. Worse than that, he didn't have a Sentinel yet and from what little Jim had read the night before, he was looking for one. The last thing Jim needed at this point was a target on his back.

The only piece of potentially good information he found on the man were the many articles claiming Sandburg to have a relatively traditional view on Sentinels. From what he was able to gather, Sandburg focused on the protector aspect of Sentinels rather than the weaknesses that came with heightened sense. It seemed the Anthropologist-Guide emphasized the abilities and strengths that came from being a Sentinel instead of the growing tendency in the field to see the senses as a handicap to regular life. If that were true, then Jim might be able to use that to his advantage later on if things really fell apart.

Besides the information on Sandburg, the copies detailing Sentinel characteristics and diseases was even less encouraging. Apparently, Sentinels didn't live very long life spans. The senses brought with them innumerable sensitivities to chemicals and foreign substances. In fact, Sentinels seemed to be the only group that fared worse in modern society, with bad reactions to everything from pollution to modern pharmaceuticals. Then, worse than the tendency of modern Sentinels to drop dead at a relatively early age, they also seemed to have a habit of going insane. The book detailed many mental problems that could develop from heightened senses; obsessive-compulsive disorders, autism, schizophrenia being a few. Then, after every section that ran through some new detriment to heightened senses the book emphasized the importance of having a Guide to help the Sentinel cope and avoid some of these dangers. It made Jim wish he had checked the book out so he could pitch it to the other side of the room.

Jim shook off his thoughts concerning the matter and shut off the shower, quickly drying off. He had every intention of getting into work before Sandburg, if only to give him time to prepare. He wasn't sure if the Guide had seen or recognized him at the library, but Jim was going to make the assumption that he had and put up a defense accordingly. _Deny everything and don't let the man corner you_, Jim thought to himself as he looked over the room one last time and headed out the door.

In his truck, Jim took an extra moment to run everything through his head and double check his control. He'd hidden every piece of incriminating evidence and taken a moment to focus in on his senses, carefully balancing them to the world around him. Fighting the urge to speed to work, he forced himself to stay calm as he wound through the predawn streets. Sandburg didn't strike him as the early bird type, despite the man's early appearance that the station the day before. He had plenty of time to make it in before the Guide.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The next day, Blair woke up as early as he could. It wasn't as early as he'd hoped, but seven o'clock was the best he could do after spending half the night rifling through medical reports, books and first hand observations of skilled empaths. He finally had to admit to himself he wasn't getting any younger.

It had been worth it, though. In the midst of a large pile of irrelevant information and false leads Blair found a few references to a similar phenomenon decades ago. A latent sentinel had been stranded in the wilderness for several weeks. During that time, he had unknowingly developed his abilities without the aid or assistance of a guide and upon returning to civilization did not recognize his new talents as Sentinel abilities. The man apparently went several years without a guide before zoning in a public park. The following medical examinations preformed by guides and Sentinel doctors showed similar distortions in the man's psychic aura, though not to the extent that seemed to surround Jim Ellison.

After reviewing the case several times and going through the notes he had from the brief time spent with the Detective, Blair had come to the conclusion that the increased distortion surrounding Ellison was most likely due to his only being a latent Sentinel on the very brink of coming online. The threshold abilities of a latent Sentinel would have the same muffled feel and the lack of training from a guide would account for their distorted nature.

The theory was sound. It made sense, but the problem was Blair wasn't an expert in Sentinel medicine. It just wasn't his field. He was barely qualified to debate on the issue. He needed a second opinion but didn't want to involve the Center just yet. This particular situation seemed particularly delicate, considering Ellison's attitude, and the Center was more like an elephant in a China shop in these types of situations. Their approach tended along the lines of get the Sentinel into a safe environment and worry about their personal adjustment to a new lifestyle later. Personally, knowing what he did about the man's military background, Jim Ellison was not a man Blair wanted angry at him.

Blair ran through the options as he climbed out of the shower and quickly got dressed. He could head over to the university. There were several experts on Sentinel medicine there that would be able to validate or shoot down his theory. As long as he didn't reveal any personal information about who might be the Sentinel then he wouldn't have to worry about the Center being dragged into the mix just yet. Maybe he could pass it off as a side project or something.

Grabbing a few articles off the pile of clean clothes lying next to his dresser, Blair dressed and made his way into the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before heading out for the day. His apartment was small but clean, or it usually was when he had time to put away his laundry, and conveniently close to Rainier University. The small size seemed even smaller with the numerous shelves lining the walls filled with books, artifacts, and research materials. What little wall space was still visible contained photographs and more souvenirs from his various expeditions. At the moment, there was little on the kitchen shelves but some bagels and organic milk in the fridge that had probably gone bad. He'd planned on going days ago, but got caught up in one thing after another, first with the project, then with his discovery.

Blair settled for chewing on a bagel as he gathered up his research and stuffed it in his pack before heading out the door. The drive didn't take long, despite morning traffic, and fifteen minutes later he found himself in front of the office of Dr. Garry Hedrick PhD of Sentinel medicine. The door was propped open so Blair leaned into the carpeted office knocking on the door frame as he did.

Dr. Hedrick looked up from behind his desk at the sound and smiled, motioning him to enter. "Blair, what are you doing here? I thought you went on a sabbatical for that project from the Center."

"I did," Blair said stepping into the book-lined office and shutting the door behind him. "But something came up that I wanted to ask you about."

Dr. Hedrick's thick, dark eyebrows rose toward his receding hairline and he laid his pen on the desk, pushing away the paper he'd been reviewing, as Blair pulled out some of the notes he'd made about his theory and took a seat.

"I found a medical case from the forty's where a Sentinel, not realizing that he was a Sentinel, developed a severely warped and distorted psychic aura due to lack of training and a Guide." Blair started, deliberately leaving out his current discovery.

Leaning back in his chair, Hedrick nodded, "I believe remember reading that case study. It was an exceptional situation. The man had actually been able to survive years without help, but he had been forced to make extreme changes in his life, limit the things he did, the places he went, what he ate."

"Wouldn't he have noticed, though?" Blair asked, voicing one the many questions he had about the case, "I read through the observations and notes of the study and I find it odd that he didn't pick up on the fact that he may have been a Sentinel."

Hedrick nodded. "Yes, that was the big question at the time. From what I've read on the incident, it was concluded to be similar to a frog in boiling water case. The concessions started out small and grew over time, a little less pepper on the food, buying a few more silk or cotton shirts than wool. By the time he was discovered, he'd given up most of his life without even realizing it." Hedrick paused, fingers steepled and brow furrowed and he ran through the case in his memory. "I believe there was even some indication that he didn't want a Guide initially, but I highly doubt it. The source was unreliable and you know how the facts from those early case studies can be twisted."

"Especially if he was in pain at the time, it wouldn't make sense to turn down a Guide," Blair agreed, before turning back to his main question, "I was curious if a similar distortion were possible in a latent Sentinel, someone who was on the brink of developing his senses."

Hedrick looked back down at him with a slightly startled face. "Why? You haven't found one have you?"

"No," Blair said quickly, hoping it wasn't too quick. For a brief moment he thanked God that Hedrick was not a guide or had any Guide talents. He was sure even the most talentless empath could have picked up on his lie. "I came across the study in my general researching and I was curious if it was something I should be on the lookout for."

Hedrick leaned forward, placing his forearms on his desk as he watched Blair with a measuring expression. For a moment, Blair doubted whether the man lacked any extra sensory abilities but he didn't feel the light brush that came from a fellow empath. It didn't reassure him much, though; you didn't need empathy or special sense to tell when someone was bending to the truth.

"It's very possible," the doctor said, after a silence that stretched just a moment too long, "In fact, I'd even say it's more than likely. Sentinels that bloom or are discovered late always tend to have slightly altered physic impressions than those found early in life, but nothing more than what would differ from person to person. It's a difficult thing to study since when a Sentinel finds a Guide a large part of the psychic impression is used to build the bond between the two and is blocked from others for reading."

Blair nodded as he listened to the explanation. He was well aware of what happened when a Sentinel and Guide developed a psychic bond. It had been a large part of his training as a Guide.

"Still, the psychic and spiritual aspects of both Sentinels and Guides are still a great mystery. It's so difficult to study those things empirically and it's only in recent years that the majority of people have started to acknowledge the full extent of that aspect of the relationship. We just don't know that much about it."

"But a Guide would be able to sense it in an unbounded Sentinel, right?" Blair asked for clarification.

"Yes, I see no reason why not," Hedrick agreed and hesitated a moment. "Blair, you realize if you've found someone you need to bring them into the Center. A Sentinel by himself can't survive out there. The pollutions and chemicals in the air and water alone can be enough to cause severe problems. I know you want a Sentinel, and you've been waiting a long time for one, but it's better to for them to get a different Guide than to end up killed because you waited till too late."

Blair didn't say anything through the Doctor's heartfelt advice. He knew Hedrick had always taken a more cautionary approach to Sentinel medicine, supporting many of the new laws and regulations designed to protect Sentinels from the environment around them. It was a subject they often disagreed on and more than once held heated debates about. Still, despite Blair's own personal beliefs on the subject, he couldn't deny that Dr. Hedrick cared about the health and lives of all Sentinels. Even if Blair didn't think he understood the eventual repercussions of that course of action, the man's heart was in the right place so instead of making any comments or arguments back Blair just nodded.

"Don't worry; _if_ I do happen to find anyone that meets the bill of a Sentinel, I'll be sure to do the best thing possible for them."

Hedrick didn't say anything more, just looked at Blair with a level gaze giving Blair the distinct impression that the doctor had already guessed he'd found a Sentinel. Blair didn't lower his own gaze though. He kept it up and just as steady, not willing any sign of his discovery or white lie to slip through. He had no doubt if Hedrick thought he knew an unregistered Sentinel the medical doctor would call the Center immediately. A small part of Blair regretted coming to ask for the second opinion but he had little to no experience in this field and couldn't fully trust his own theories. Then, suddenly, Hedrick's gaze cut away, back to his paper-stacked desk and leaned back in his faux leather chair again.

"I'm sure you will," He said lightly, with the barest hit of undertone.

Blair took that chance to stand up and prepare to leave. "Well, thank you, doctor. I'll be sure to keep all this in mind during my study."

Hedrick rose from his chair, as well, taking Blair's offered hand. "I hope I've been some assistance. It is an interesting matter, just very difficult to study, especially for an outsider like myself; probably the reason why we haven't made much progress since that case occurred."

"No, you've been a great help, but I really need to get back to the department. I'm still trying to win their trust so it can be a little difficult." Blair gathered up his things and turned toward the door.

"I can understand. Good luck then. I hope you find a Sentinel while you're there."

"Thanks, I'm certainly going to try," Blair muttered, pulling the door open and moving out into a hallway suddenly filled with students. He weaved through the milling crowds heading for the exit and his car. A quick glance at his watch and Blair grimaced. He was going to be so late, something which was not a good impression for the second day, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. Maybe he could fix the copier machine and make up for it that way.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Jim threw another side glance at the clock, checking the time again. The morning was wearing on and there was still no sign of Sandburg. At first, when he'd gotten into the department with no sign of the Guide in sight he had been relieved. The delay gave him time to settle himself, get ready for a long and trying day, though if the Guide didn't get there soon the day wouldn't be nearly as long and trying as he originally thought. A brief flash of annoyance passed through him as another half hour passed. If the man was going to be attached to the department for the time being the least he could do was be on time about it, but Jim quickly squashed the feeling. Any minute without Sandburg was a good minute and if the observer couldn't keep it together enough to be in on time in the morning maybe the ridiculous project of his would be canceled and Jim could back to living his own life without fear of imminent discovery.

_Maybe, the project has already been canceled_, Jim thought to himself with a certain amount of false hope.

The feeling did not last, however, as he heard the familiar thumping coming up in the elevator and stopping at his floor. Sandburg rushed into the room a moment later, un-slinging his backpack as he approached Jim's desk.

"Sorry I'm late, man," Sandburg said breathless, dumping his bag next to Jim's desk and wheeling a chair over. "I had to swing by the university for something."

"Oh? You teaching classes still?" Jim asked. He was fishing, he knew, looking for anything that would keep the Guide out of the department and away from him for a few hours out of the day. If Sandburg had classes then he could do desk work during those times and make sure he was elsewhere the rest of the day.

Sandburg looked at Jim with surprise, eyebrows shooting to his hair at actually being addressed by the cop. "Nah," he said, unknowingly squashing Jim's plan, "I'm on sabbatical until this thing is over so I don't have any classes or responsibilities to worry about. I just wanted to double check some things a colleague before coming in today."

Jim shot his tag-along a glance. He didn't like the sound of that at all.

There was a pregnant pause as Jim didn't respond with so much as a grunt. The Detective could feel Sandburg waiting for something to continue the conversation, but if he was expecting something different from yesterday's silent treatment he had another thing coming.

After a few moments of uncomfortable, hanging silence, Sandburg seemed to realize he wasn't getting anything more for the time being. He settled down with an audible sigh, pulling out notes and a note book from his backpack. The two quickly fell into the same pattern from the day before, only this time Sandburg's attempts at conversation were fewer and far between. The silence seemed heavier as well, a giant pink elephant from last night sitting at the desk with the two men.

Jim kept his back to Sandburg as much as possible, focusing on his computer screen as he ran through information from his recent murder case. He knew the Observer kept shooting looks at him, wanting to say something, and he had a pretty good idea what that conversation would revolve around, but he wasn't offering any openings.

Resisting the temptation to roll his neck and release some of the tension that had built up there, Jim glared at the computer, no longer reading the information it displayed. His senses kept trying to reach out around him, subconsciously knowing there was someone there who could bring him back if he went too far. It was something else he'd read in the book from last night. Apparently, Sentinels had a tendency to feel more comfortable using their senses around people who were more "empathically inclined". It was a personality trait similar to wall-flowers shirking away from large crowds or social butterflies attracted to noisy, busy places, so said the book at least. Jim preferred to think it was the lack of sleep he got from the night before screwing with his control. Either way, the constant effort to pull everything back in and refocus was giving him a head, neck, and shoulder ache all in one fell swoop.

Behind him, Jim could hear Sandburg scratching away on his note pad. The clock on the wall seemed to be ticking abominably loud. Even the steady creak of Rafe's chair across the room was getting on Jim's nerves. He checked the time hoping it wasn't too early to break for lunch and a chance to sit out in his truck listening to the AM static channel. Eleven thirty wasn't too early for lunch, was it? Granted he'd gotten in a little late than normal, but it had still been earlier than the rest of the department. Behind him, he could hear Sandburg take in a breath to make another attempt at conversation and Jim was out of his chair like a shot.

"Lunch," was all Jim said as he grabbed his jacket and moved past Sandburg.

Sandburg's head shot up before quickly closing his notebook. "Great! Where are we going?"

"I don't know where you're going, but I'm going out," Jim replied heading for the break room to get his packed lunch, Sandburg hot on his heels.

There was a brief pause as his tag-along followed him into the empty break room. "Do you mind if I come along?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Jim said, not caring that it came out rude and irritable.

Jim opened the fridge in the back corner and started sifting through boxes of tub-ware and brown bags, pieces of fruit and bottles of soda. His lunch was pushed to the back, one of the downfalls to coming in early. Before, he would go to Wonder Burger or another restaurant in the area, but as things got worse he started making his own lunch. That way he knew exactly what went into what he was eating. Stacking various mystery food items on the counter between the sink and the coffee machine, Jim grumble to himself as he looked for his brown paper bag. So help him, if someone took his roast beef on rye with extra Swiss cheese…

"You pack your own lunch?" Sandburg asked, his voice peaked with interest.

"Me and half the department," Jim muttered, not caring if Sandburg heard him or not. Ah, there it was.

Sandburg didn't say anything more for a few moments. Jim could feel the man's eyes boring into his back as he crammed things back into the fridge. The Guide wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure if he should. Jim didn't know exactly how he knew that, but he could feel the indecision hanging in the air like the giant pink elephant that had followed them from the desk.

"Don't trust restaurant food?" Sandburg asked. When Jim didn't answer, he took a breath and continued, "You know, Jim-"

Jim shot Sandburg a glare that would have withered poison ivy.

Despite the glare, Sandburg drew in a deep breath and began again, "Detective Ellison, last night I was at the library and while I was there someone-"

Jim kept his glare, making sure to show no recognition of what the man could be talking about. His lack of response seemed to take Sandburg's momentum and he stopped, unsure how to continue.

After a moment Sandburg tried another approach, "Sometimes people have particular talents and they don't even realize it until one day they just…What I mean to say is traditionally, in ancient societies and today, sometimes it takes time to…let me start over." Sandburg paused, clasping his hand and putting his two pointer fingers to his lips. "Have you ever noticed that things can sometimes too be too loud or bright or too much in general?"

Jim shut the fridge door with a dull thud. He turned to the man who was currently blocking the only way out of the small room. _Damn, cornered._ "What exactly are you implying?" he asked in a low voice with a few steps to bring him in the other man's personal space.

Sandburg frowned at the dangerous tone and the hostile glare Jim was sending him. "I…I was just wondering if…" The Guide faded off, again unsure how to continue. They stared at each other for a few moments before Sandburg seemed to make up his mind. "I was wondering if there was any possibility that you could be a Sentinel," he said in a quiet voice, his eyes never leaving Jim's.

Jim felt his heart stutter slightly at the question. He had a good idea this is what Sandburg had been thinking about asking, but hearing it spoken out loud was no less disturbing. He didn't answer right away, giving himself a chance to regain a little of control from the panic that had momentarily grabbed his heart. _Deny everything_, he repeated silently to himself before speaking up in a quiet, cold voice, "What would give you that idea? If I were a Sentinel I would be at the Center or with some Guide."

"Ah…well," Sandburg tried, his voice low, clearly nervous from Jim's hostile proximity, "If you hadn't come online yet it's possible no one may have noticed…b-but we could go and take some tests at the Center…"

Jim was careful to keep any sign of fear out of his expression, but his anger, he let that seep through with no problem. In fact, he barely restrained himself from slamming Sandburg against the wall. "Look, you neo-hippy witchdoctor punk," he hissed, "I am not a Sentinel. No one in my family has ever been a Sentinel. I am _not _going to take any of your tests and I am _not _going to tolerate any of your accusations."

Sandburg shrunk back bumping into the counter, surprise written in his wide eyes, but Jim didn't let up. He moved with the man, staying in his personal space and towering over him threateningly.

"I don't like you, Sandburg, and if I had a choice you wouldn't even be in the same building as me, but I don't. So you're going to stop trying to be my friend, get your notes and then we can both move on in our own separate directions and forget each other ever existed."

Jim didn't give the other a chance to respond as he stormed out of the department toward the stairs. He didn't know what he was going to do exactly, but he was coming up with _some _excuse to stay away from the station for the rest of the day. No way in _Hell _was he coming back today.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Well there you go. I hope you liked it and I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner. Though I will say, reviews help me write faster, especially a week or two after a post. Leave a review on your way out! ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: First off, I apologize for the extreme lateness of this chapter. I've been very busy lately and this chapter proved harder to write than others. I hope that it turns out worth the wait you all put up for it. As always, Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts you send me. It really helps keep this story going and really brightens my day and week!

Disclaimer: This is not Beta'd; in fact, it's barely read-over since I don't know when my next chunk of free time will be, so any and all mistakes are completely mine and I apologize for them. Also, I do not own it.

SSSSSSSS

"Well, that didn't go well," Blair muttered to himself a few moments after the detective left.

For a moment there, he was sure Ellison was about to slam him into the wall, or deck him, but the detective had excellent self control. He could tell from the strong emotions that had come from the man during their small confrontation. All he'd seen on Ellison's face was the blank, uninterested looked initially and then the anger that had shown through at the end. Despite that, Blair could feel nervousness and uncertainty within Ellison and, more than that, he could feel the overwhelming fear that had gripped the man's heart.

Blair's frown deepened as he looked toward the door where Ellison had left. The fear still lingered in the room. He could practically feel it prickling on his skin, making him uneasy and tempting him to look over his shoulder. It wasn't a normal fear. It was something much deeper, bordering on the panic of a trapped animal. It didn't make sense. The fear had peaked when he'd mentioned the Center, the tests, and Jim being a Sentinel. If the man was afraid of his own abilities, it could explain some of the fear but not the gut-wrenching level, and if that were the case then it would mean Jim knew what he was. If he knew what he was then why hadn't he gotten some help? Why hadn't he taken the steps to ensure his own safety and those around him? Unless, he was in denial, refusing to believe his talents were real. That was very possible.

Making his way out of the break room, Blair moved back to Ellison's empty desk. No one in the bullpen seemed to notice anything out of place. Ellison storming out of the building didn't seem to be too uncommon an occurrence. He sat down at the desk and looked at the papers still stacked across it. Ellison wouldn't be coming back today. Blair knew he wouldn't, the same way he knew about the fear the detective had felt. It was just as well, though. Blair needed time to think about this new development and come up with a new plan of action. Talking to the man was definitely out, at least until they could get on better terms, something which was going to be made much more difficult considering what just happened.

"Just give him time," Blair muttered to himself, "and space."

The next day Blair made sure to do just that. He spent the day talking with other detectives and coordinating with other departments for interviews. He didn't even see Jim, though he knew the man was in the building. The day after that was much the same until he ran out of excuses to keep him busy so he sat at Jims desk and did his best impression of a mute. Jim, for his part, found excuses to be away from his desk, going out in the field, interviewing suspects, making coffee runs. A week went by and they had barely spoken a dozen words to one another. Jim had closed several cases with everything wrapped up but the paper work, paper work required staying at your desk. Blair had made more progress on his project concerning subcultures than he ever thought possible. Simon was ecstatic about the Jim's new closure rate and the guys loved having someone to go get the coffee, even if they did joke that it was ice cold by the time it reached their desk, courtesy of the human iceberg. All in all, it was a very productive week; productive, that is, in everything except what mattered. Blair was miserable.

The one consolation prize was that Jim didn't seem nearly as murderous as he had been directly after that disastrous conversation in the break room. Blair had felt the simmering anger and suspicion coming from the detective for days following the confrontation but it finally seemed to have subsided. Yes, the detective still radiated anger and suspicion but little more than before and the silences seemed a little less tense.

Blair shot a glance at the still, stiff figure next to him. Or maybe he was just getting used to uncomfortable lack of conversation. He bit back a sigh. One step forward and two steps back.

The silence was killing him, he didn't know how much longer he could stand it. Not only that, but now that Blair was looking closely, he could see the minor signs of stress that came with the Senses. Jim's abilities were about ready to pop, if they hadn't started already. Time was running out for both of them in their uneasy truce. Something was going to snap soon, Blair wasn't sure what exactly, but something, he could feel it. He just had to make sure to be there to pick up the pieces when it happened.

SSSSSSSSSSSS

Jim pretended he didn't hear the cut off sigh coming from the man sharing his desk. As far as he was concerned there was no one there to ignore a sigh from. That had been his working solution to the "Sandburg problem" thus far and he was going to keep it up until absolutely necessary.

Thankfully, the observer had been unexpectedly cooperative with the unspoken plan. At first, Jim was expecting the Guide to call into the Center and report him as a latent Sentinel, but days went by and no one showed from the prestigious institution to lead him away. That was enough to at least ease some of his misgivings he had about the Guide, but that still didn't mean he wanted the Guide anywhere near him.

Jim scowled as another pang from his headache shot through his skull. The dull throb had become a constant part of his life since Sandburg's arrival. It backed off during the night when he retreated into the safety of his familiar and highly fortified apartment only to grow as the day went on to migraine proportions. Headaches had been a constant part of life since coming online, but the constant stress of pulling in on his roving senses was wearing him down into one giant headache.

Not for the first time, Jim thought back to the information he'd gotten from the library, specifically about Sentinels feeling more open to using their senses with a Guide around. It appeared that particular fact was more true than Jim cared to accept, if his constantly reaching senses were anything to go by. The idea that maybe those books did know something of what they were talking about was lost in the one conclusion that Jim drew from the experience: this was entirely Blair's fault.

Unfair though it sounded, it was easier to say that than to admit that he might need some help with the senses after all. Jim hadn't had too many problems before the Guide had come around, at least no problems he wasn't able to fix with heavy curtains, white noise generators, and a high level of pain tolerance. Yes, the zone-outs always gave him cause for worry, but he always snapped back, and he never had a problem if he didn't reach too far; which he didn't do, that is, until the interloping Guide appeared and started screwing with his system.

A loud scraping noise jolted Jim from his thoughts as he realized his hearing had gotten away from him again. He shot the offending chair across the room a glare as the noise added to the throbbing in his head. Behind him, his could feel Sandburg's sideways stare, like the man knew exactly what was going on with him. Jim forced himself back to his work, resisting the urge to bring a hand to his forehead. He thought briefly of the extra large bottle of aspirin sitting in his bottom drawer, but didn't want to make his problems obvious. It was past lunch, a few more hours and he could go home without too much notice.

However, Simon bursting out of his office destroyed Jim's plans for an early day with one announcement. "We have a hostage situation, people!"

The room stilled with the announcement, everyone turning their heads and pinning their full attention on the Captain.

"On the corner of Fourth and Willow, four known suspects and a possible fifth holding at least six hostages. The officer at the scene thinks the ring leader might be one of the head honchos from the local drug scene. I want everyone available down there twenty minutes ago. Set up a perimeter and vantage points of all the exits. We'll straighten out the details when we get there." There was a brief pause as everyone continued to stare at the large man for a split second more before Simon bellowed, "Move!"

Then, just as suddenly the room jumped back to frenzied life again as everyone hurried out the door. Officers grabbed their jackets, service weapons and were out the door in seconds. Jim clumped all his sensitive material currently out and dropped it into a secure drawer before holstering his service weapon. From the corner of his eye he saw Sandburg stuffing papers and notebooks into his back.

"What do you think you're doing, Sandburg?" Jim asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be.

Sandburg carefully avoided Jim's glare as he packed his own papers away into his bag. "I'm going with you to observe how things are run down at the site.

Jim was already shaking his head before Sandburg got out the first two words. "No, we went over this already. You are not taking any day trips to active crime scenes. The last thing we need is a civilian observer getting in the way."

Sandburg opened his mouth protest, his own annoyed glare growing on his face but the captain's appearance a moment later made any further arguments unnecessary.

"He's coming, Ellison," Simon said simply, closing and locking the door to his office.

"But sir," Jim protested turning to face his superior, "You know what these situations are like. Thing are going to be chaotic enough without untrained personnel in the way. Not to mention it's an active crime scene, an active _crime_ happening at the moment. It could get dangerous!" Jim inwardly winced a little at the last excuse he had, it almost made it sound like he cared for the Guide's safety, but at the moment he was more concerned with keeping Sandburg away from the scene in case he needed to use any special "talents".

"Didn't know you cared so much," Sandburg commented somewhat dryly.

"I'm worried about what would happen to the department if we let our civilian observer get hurt at a crime," Jim snapped a little too quickly.

Simon shook his head pausing before he moved past. "There's going to be press and spectators all over the place anyway. Sandburg being there isn't going to change anything. Now stop complaining and get your ass in gear."

Jim fought back a frustrated growl as he caught Sandburg's triumphant grin from the corner of his eye. Without saying another word he snatched the keys from his desk and left the office, the kid hurrying to catch up behind him.

"Don't worry," Sandburg said, getting on the elevator behind Jim, "You won't even know I'm there. I'll just sit back in my own little corner and take notes from afar."

"Damn right, you will," Simon agreed, "Just remember that when we get there. If I find out you're trying to interview anyone or getting underfoot in anyway it'll be the last time you'll be leaving the office for official police business."

Jim didn't bother saying anything, just glared at the doors as he once again thought the elevator was too small for him and Sandburg, much less all three of them.

The elevator ride down to the parking garage was silent and tense after that, as was the ride to the scene when Sandburg decided that being Jim's liaison meant he rode in Jim's truck. Jim didn't say anything, though he could feel his jaw tightening with every passing moment. If he didn't relax a little he was going to break a tooth.

When they got there, the scene was already a mass of confusion with a dense crowd of bystanders. The responding police were pushing curious civilians back a safe distance away, setting up tape and wooden barriers to keep the area clear. Jim pulled in directly behind the Captain, following the captain past the newly established police line, Sandburg following close behind him. The loud thrumming of the crowd pounded in Jim's ears. He barely caught a flinch as a police siren let out a short shriek.

A hand landed lightly on his arm as Sandburg leaned in slightly. "Are you ok?" he asked quietly.

Jim didn't trust himself to open his mouth to reply to the younger man at the moment, so he simply ignored the question, jerking his arm away from the other's touch. He followed Simon up to the makeshift command center and listened into the short summary of the situation. There were still only four confirmed assailants with no news on the possible fifth. The six hostages were being held on first floor in the far back office. They had been moved there immediately after the arrival of the police.

According to the responding officers, it didn't seem like a planned move on the assailants' part. From what they'd been able to see before the blinds were drawn, the hostage takers only had hand guns with them, nothing high powered, no explosives, and no body armor. The building itself was a poor choice for holding off the city's police department with many broad windows and an entire corner under construction, thick plastic traps hanging over gaping holes in the building's side. Anyone of those points could become an easy access for officers trying to get into the building. Of course, the suddenness of it all also meant the assailants would be more prone to panic, and strained nerves with itchy trigger fingers never made a good combination.

Simon frowned as he looked over the building schematics, hastily procured from the construction company currently on lunch break. "I think sending in some men would be our best bet. We can get them set up inside the building with cover and cut off any form of escape. Plus it will give us a chance to establish some form of communication, maybe we could talk them before things get out of control."

Jim looked over the floor diagram again, thinking over what the construction crew had said when questioned. All of the back rooms had been cleared out for the renovations and repairs taking place. Some of the walls had even been taken down, partially or entirely, leaving a relatively open area in the back. There were also no phones or computer connections running to the back half of the building which meant no form of communication. Nodding his head, Jim agreed, "I think the less time they have in there to themselves thinking up brilliant ideas is a good thing."

"Right, I want you, Rafe, Brown, and Jackson to set up positions. Go in through the construction area and the front and try not to be noticed until you've got cover. I'll have everyone maintain radio silence until you contact us. Talk them down if you can but-"

"You're sending Jim in there? It's a construction site!" Sandburg interrupted from behind.

Both Simon and Jim turned to glare at the eaves dropper, though Simon's was just aggravated Jim's had an unspoken warning to it.

"And why would that matter, Sandburg?" Simon asked, turning back to the diagrams spread out over the hood of a cruiser.

Jim caught Sandburg's eye and made a minute shake of his head, putting all the menace and threat he could in the action.

It seemed to work, because Sandburg paused, mouth half open, a flinched slightly before continuing, "Because Jim's got allergies, lots of allergies, and all the dust and fumes that's going to be there…"

Simon rolled his eyes before glancing at Jim and Sandburg, "I'm sure detective Ellison will be fine, right?"

"Yes, sir," Jim immediately replied, though the thought of all the chemicals in most construction areas made him frown. He'd have to turn his smell way down and deal with any reactions he had after the fact.

"Alright," Simon nodded, "Now get going, the sooner we end this the better."

Jim nodded and turned from the car to find Rafe, Brown, and Jackson, almost colliding with Sandburg on the way. "Sandburg, I thought you were going to stay out of the way," he growled, grabbing the observer by his shoulders and physically moving to the side.

Sandburg didn't bother responding, instead moving into step with Jim. "You can't seriously be thinking of going in there without back up," he hissed, remembering to keep his voice low.

Jim shot him an annoyed looked before reply just as low, "No, that's Rafe, Brown, and Jackson are coming."

"That's not what I mean," Sandburg rolled his eyes.

"Well then I guess I don't know what you mean," Jim said, stubbornly ignoring the Guide's implications. Jim stopped and turned to face him, "Look Sandburg, I've been doing this job for quite some time, I'm not going to let a few…allergies keep me from doing what I need to do."

Turning from the Guide, Jim strode away. He caught site of Brown and Rafe helping close off the barriers on the growing crowd. A moment later, he found Jackson nearby. They went over the plan and with a nod from Simon headed into the building, two from the side and two from the front.

Jim held back the thick construction plastic to allow Jackson in close behind him. He immediately noticed the thick smell of paint thinner and dust, motor oil and wood that filled the air inside the building. Smothering a cough, Jim paused a moment and forced his smell down as far as it would go. It wouldn't help for long, but it would work until they got out of the building. They wound through the half demolished walls and naked studs until the heard the faint foot falls from Rafe and Brown as well as the muffled voices of the group in the back.

There were two doors leading to the room where the hostages were being held. Jim and Jackson took cover by one while Rafe and Brown found positions near the other. Silent nods all around and a brief murmur into the radio and Jim called out to the group in the room.

"This is the police!" Jim called in the same strong, sure voice he used in the military. "Come out with your hands up!" He didn't think they would but it was always worth a try.

"Yeah right!" called a voice from inside the room, young and full of false bravado, "I know how this works! We've got the hostages, so we give the orders."

"Look at your situation!" Jim called back, still maintaining the tone of control, "You're stuck in a room with no way out. There's more of us than there are of you, and if you do anything to those hostages it'll just be worse later on when we catch you. Turn yourself over now and everything will go much easier for you." He resisted shifting into a more comfortable position as he waited by the open doorway.

There was silence for several minutes inside the room, except for the hushed and urgent conversation that only Jim could hear. There were five in the group of assailants. It sounded like they were gathered in the center of the room as they whispered arguments back and forth. Several of them were scared, a couple of them even wanted to give up. Jim could hear their nervous shifting from one foot to another and how they fidgeted where they stood.

Jim frowned when he started to register the nervous breathing of one, edging faster to panic. That was going too deep, he didn't want a zone out happening here of all places. That would nothing short of disastrous, to say the least. With a little effort he pulled his hearing back till the quiet conversation was nothing more than a few mumbles through the wall. It was temping to leave it up high enough to hear what they were say, but the way his sense were acting lately, he knew it wouldn't be too long before it started inching up again, anyway.

Listening to the increasingly frantic mumbles from inside the room, Jim decided the group had enough time to debate amongst themselves. He took in a large breath glancing at Jackson as his fellow detective spoken quietly into his radio, reporting the situation.

"There's no need to panic," Jim said, "This is really more simple than it looks, just give yourselves up, you're not getting away anyway. The judge will see no one was hurt and you turned yourselves in, he'll go easy on you. But if you _don't _and someone gets hurt, then that's a different story entirely."

Jim heard Simon's voice crackle over the radio bug in his ear. "Jim, take it easy, we're sending in a negotiator."

He opened his mouth to respond but a sharp voice in the room stopped him. Jim's head shot up and he shifted himself into a more ready position, drawing a side glance from Jackson, seconds before a shot rang out from the room. The first shot was followed by another and sounds of a struggle. Without waiting, Jim ducked into the room followed by a surprised Jackson. One of the hostage takers was one the ground, a large dark spot quickly spreading over his shoulder. Two others were struggling over a hand gun, the barrel pointing wildly in all directions, while the remaining two were staring on in disbelief.

"Drop your weapons! Police!" Jim yelled, drawing attention to his sudden appearance.

One of the remaining two snapped up his pistol and fired off a shot before Jim put a round in his shoulder. The fifth man thought better of it as he dropped his handgun and threw his hands in the air. Rafe and Brown were on the two fighting over the gun, dragging them apart while Jackson looked after the first injured man. Jim swept the room, counting each of the hostages and checking over their conditions. They were huddle to one of the outer walls, desperately trying to disappear into the sheet rock after the situation between turned ugly. The fast pounding of heart beats rattled in his ears, but no of them seemed hurt.

A moment later, officers poured in from the two doors ways as Jim snapped cuffs on the man who'd thrown down his gun. He finally noticed Simon bellowing in his ear for a report, but Rafe beat him to it as he relayed the situation back over the radio.

Dragging the man around to the front, Jim took one last look to make sure everything was under control. Officers were tending the two injured assailants and others were looking after the hostages, slowly drawing them up on shaky legs. The air stunk of blood and chemicals as his smell slipped up another notch, drawing attention to itself for the first time since entering the building. With a frown, Jim realized he was wheezing a bit as he drew air in and out of his lungs.

"Brown, I'm taking this one out and I'll make a direct report to Simon," Jim called as he directed his arrestee out the door.

Jim didn't bother waiting for an answer before rushing the man through the building and into the fresh air. The prisoner stumbled a few times from the pace, but besides a quick glare behind him didn't do or say anything more. Jim didn't care anyway, all he was concerned about was getting out of the building before something happened to give everything way.

The moment he left the building, Jim was bombarded noise and sunlight. It made him wince slightly, as he registered dozes of flashes pointed in his direction from news and bystanders. The shock only lasted for a moment, as Jim dragged in a breath of fresh air. Relatively fresh air, he realized, as his smell swung slightly to the more sensitive side from being turned down for so long. He could pick up on the heavy smell of exhaust and air pollution that came with every city, as well as remnants of the chemicals, dust and blood from the scene inside still clinging to him and the prisoner.

A few steps from the building and they were intercepted by a couple of officers ready to take the prisoner off Jim's hands. A moment after that and Sandburg appeared from the busy crowd. The Guide hurried to him, pale with a worried expression.

"Are you alright?" Sandburg asked before he even reached Jim.

Jim shot him a weak glare before turning away in search for Simon. He focused on keeping everything in control as the inevitable backlash from his sense started to build. His smell was the worse at the moment, but the others were spinning off and on around him as well. "I'm fine," he ground out, only half looking for Simon.

"No you're not, you're wheezing," Sandburg contradicted, moving in front of Jim. His eyes widened slightly, "And bleeding! You're bleeding, Jim!"

Jim frowned again, bringing a hand to his face as he felt the sticky wetness for the first time. He noticed the sharp sting, as well, while he spun to the nearest cruiser. Checking himself in the window, Jim rolled his eyes at the shallow cut on his face. "It's just a scratch, Sandburg," he said with a sigh, too tired to growl at the Guide. "It probably happened when chuckles over there shot at me."

"A scratch?" Sandburg repeated, disbelief in his tone and expression. "Don't you realize what kind of contaminants could get into a cut like that? It could cause infection, a reaction-"

"I wasn't planning on leaving it as-is and waiting to see what happens," Jim grumbled, almost to himself. He was tired, had a splitting headache, his senses were bouncing all over the place, and he still had to report to Simon, the last thing he wanted was an overprotective Guide badgering him about a scratch.

Scanning the jumbled crowd of police and paramedics, Jim finally caught sight of Simon heading his way. The hostages were being led out of the building followed by the remaining four assailants and Simon paused a moment to speak to one of the patrol men handling them before turning back toward Jim.

"Ellison!" he yelled to catch Jim's attention.

Jim flinched slightly at the loud tone, covering it with a shoulder roll and moving to meet Simon halfway.

"Lord, Ellison, I didn't ask you to go in there guns blazing. What happened?" Simon asked, lowering his voice slightly to avoid any unwanted eaves dropping.

"They panicked, Sir," Jim said. He could feel Sandburg move up uncomfortably close behind him and had to resist the urged to whip around and tell the Guide to back off. As it was, he had a hard enough time blocking out Sandburg's heart beat, which was still going fast from the earlier action. Obviously, there wasn't much excitement in academics, at least none of the shooting variety. "We went in, set up positions, I told them to give up, they started arguing amongst themselves and a couple shots went off. When I heard the shots, I went in. One was already injured, two were fighting over the gun, one fired at me so I fired back, and the last one surrendered."

"That's it?" Simon said, looking at Jim hard.

"That's short version. I'll be much more detailed in my written report," Jim nodded ignoring Sandburg's fidgeting behind him. He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes.

Thankfully, Jim's explanation seemed to appease Simon somewhat as some of the tension visibly left the Captain. "As long as none of our people provoked it. The last thing we need right now is some yellow-journalist reporting about trigger-happy detectives."

"Sir," Sandburg interrupted the Captain before he could go on. "Couldn't we do this some other time?"

Simon opened his mouth to object, but stopped, taking a good look at Jim. "You look terrible, Ellison. You weren't kidding about those allergies, were you?" Crossing his arms over his chest, Simon stared at him, as though seeing him for the first time in a long while. "Have your report on my desk tomorrow at noon. Till then, get home and get some rest. Sandburg, make sure he gets there."

Jim frowned. Sure, he felt like crap and his face was a little bloody from the cut, but he didn't think it was that bad. He opened his mouth to protest but a wave of dizziness hit and he swayed for a moment where he stood, Sandburg's hand on his arm keeping him upright. "It has been a long day, Sir," Jim said, hoping to cover his obvious problems with a solid, normal excuse, "And I do have allergies."

Simon nodded, though Jim wasn't sure if he was buying it or not. "Just get home and get some sleep."

The Captain turned and headed back into the center of the activity, yelling orders at patrol men. Jim watched him go, a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Another wave of dizziness pushed the thought out of his head for the moment and sent him into the same survival reaction that had kept him hidden for so many years. If he was reacting from something in the building, which, he had to admit to himself, was more than likely, he had to get out of there, get back to his truck and back to his apartment. He had enough supplies and equipment there to deal with anything except for the most sever reactions.

Sandburg grabbed one arm and started to help him back to the truck. Jim shot a glare at his unwanted helper before trying to pull his arm away. "I can walk just fine on my own," he growled, but Sandburg held firm.

"C'mon Jim," Sandburg said sotto voice, "I thought you wanted to attract as little attention as possible."

Unable to argue, Jim allowed Blair to guide him back to his truck. He only put up a token protest when Sandburg snatched the keys from his hand with a murmured, "Car accidents tend to attract attention, too."

Instead, Jim eased himself into the passenger seat, sliding down to avoid any prying eyes from the window as Sandburg pulled out into traffic and away from the site. He didn't bother pushing himself up again when they moved down the street. Focusing, instead, on holding onto the door and telling himself the world wasn't really 360 degree flips. The cut on his cheek was now burning as he felt the blood thicken and stiffen on his cheek and his senses flared and died with each passing moment. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, nearly forgetting the presence of the Guide in the driver's seat. Everything went to controlling the reactions his senses were having to whatever they had come in contact with.

When Sandburg stopped the car and helped him out and into the building, Jim didn't notice. He didn't even really register when the Guide asked for his apartment number and helped him up the stairs and through the door. Jim was distantly aware of someone tucking him into a bed. It was a strange detached feeling as the world still spun and faded in and out around him. Through the daze and confusion that filled his brain he could hear a steady rhythm that anchored him to the world and shielded him from the chaos that had threatened at the edges of perception only moments before. Gradually, the calm and stillness that descended around calmed his senses and Jim slipped into a deep, exhausted sleep.

SSSSSSSS

Well, I hope you liked it. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner, but I have a HUGE test coming up in four weeks, so I won't make any promises between then and now. Afterwards, however, I'll have some free time again.

Any and all constructive criticism in greatly welcomed, both for my writing and story continuity; so Please post a review on your way out! Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone. But Thank you! everyone who reviewed! It really helps keep me motivated to continue with this story. I love all the feedback I get, good and bad. I don't have a Beta reader for this story so please excuse any mistakes I make. I try to read over everything before I put it up but sometimes things just slide between the cracks. Enjoy :)

A little warning, there is some swearing in this chapter. And, as always, it's not mine.

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Blair took one look at Jim and knew something was wrong. In all honesty, he had known something was wrong before Jim even came out of the building; knew something was going to go wrong before Jim went _into _the building. He didn't need the warning bell going off in the back of his head for the past hour. The entire operation screamed bad idea when taking Jim's latest abilities into account. All they need was something to send them over the edge and he'd be a full-fledged Sentinel with all the inherent problems connected to it. It wouldn't be a problem if Jim had a Guide, but he didn't. Blair mentally kicked himself for not telling someone about his suspicions earlier. He was tempted to just blurt everything out to Simon, then and there, but with the chaos from the hostage situation, the crowd and the press it wasn't the right time. Something like this needed to be addressed in the calm and privacy of Simon's office.

When they finally got away from the Captain Blair could focus all of his attention on Jim. The blood had thrown him slightly, especially knowing that it had come from a bullet meant for his Sentinel's head. Only a few more inches to the side and Blair didn't want to think what would have happened. It froze his insides, but he pushed the thought away. Still, it wasn't till he heard the jingling of keys that he fully noticed the world around him again. Jim had his keys out and was slowly picking through them with the foolish assumption that he'd be driving home.

Blair grabbed the keys from the larger man responding to the glare with a quick, "car accident's attract a lot of attention."

Surprisingly, Blair didn't receive as much of an argument as he thought he would, which only increased the bad the feeling swirling through his stomach. Helping Jim into the passenger seat, Blair hurried around to the driver's and pulled out into traffic. Blair kept one eye on the road and the other on Jim as he navigated the early afternoon traffic.

"85 Prospect Ave," Blair muttered to himself, recalling the address from Ellison's file. Jim didn't seem to notice the trip. He sank down in his seat, eyes closed, not taking in the world around him. After a few minutes, Blair realized his passenger had settled into a meditative breathing pattern. Glancing over to Jim, Blair couldn't help the surprised expression that came over his face. Jim didn't seem the type to know about meditation, much less use it. Blair was so caught up he missed the street on the first pass but looped around and found a space in front of the building.

Easing Jim out of the seat and pulling an arm around his shoulder, Blair led Jim into the building. Blair gulped slightly at seeing the "Out of Order" sign on the elevator and the stairs off to the right. He remembered he didn't know what floor or apartment Jim lived in.

"Jim, what apartment?" Blair asked, jostling the other man.

Jim roused slightly mumbling something about apartment 5A before slumping down farther on to Blair's shoulder. Blair staggered slightly at the additional weight, grimacing at the five floor walkup with Jim leaning on him the entire way.

After a long climb and several stops along the way, the pair finally reached the door to apartment 5A. Blair fumbled with the keys, juggling between them and keeping Jim upright. He swung the door open and dropped the keys on the first flat surface he could find. Taking in the room with a quick sweep Blair noticed a living room took up most of the area with a kitchen to the side. The glimpse of a bedroom sat at the top of a staircase, making Blair roll his eyes.

"More stairs," he muttered to himself, "Of course there would be more stairs." He briefly thought about dumping Jim on the couch and calling it a night, but Jim would be better off in his own bed. It was just a few more stairs, right? He could handle a few more stairs after five flights. Still, it didn't stop Blair from grumbling under his breath about oversized police detectives with a fascination for stairs.

Finally, Blair lowered Jim down on the bed. He moved around, pulling off Jim's shoes and tugging the covers out from under the Sentinel. Jim shifted as Blair draped the covers over him before sinking deeper into the bed, his breathing the same deep and even rhythm from the car ride. Jim was pale with fine tremors running along his body. Blair frowned, eyes creasing in worry, as he watched the Sentinel slip into a heavy sleep. He didn't know how to take Jim's reaction, it was stronger than he would have expected but not a spike either. Either way, he'd treat it like a spike. It was the safest way to approach any Sentinel reaction and would give him a head start if things took a turn for the worse.

Shaking his head, Blair took off his shoes and closed the thick curtains in the room before heading back down stairs in stocking feet, no sense in making any more noise than necessary. Jim didn't seem to be in too much pain but he wasn't really cohesive either. With luck Blair could find something around the apartment to help dim the stimulus coming in from the outside. He headed for the next set of drapes hung over a sliding glass door on the first floor. Blair had to blink as the room was plunged into shade, only the light from one other window preventing complete darkness from engulfing the room. Bumping into the couch as his eyes adjusted to the low light, he made his way over to the cabinet. If he could find a radio and get some static playing it would act as a partial white noise generator, not perfect, but it would help drown out the sounds of the street traffic below. Blair had to blink again as he pulled open the door and found not a radio but an actual white noise generator and not just one, but several lining the dark recesses of the shelf. He pulled the first one out, squinting at it in the dim light. It was a good one, top of the line and very strong. Blair frowned at the contraption in front of him. He looked back to the curtains, his frown deepening, a horrible thought forming in his mind.

The frown stayed on his face as Blair set up the white noise generators, six in all, spacing them around the apartment. By the time he'd finished, Blair couldn't control the unease that had settled in his stomach. Almost on their own, his feet found their way into the kitchen. Pulling open the cupboards and fridge, he ran his eyes over the contents. No salt, no sugar, no preservatives, no pepper, no spices, only rice, pasta, chicken broth, mild vegetables, Blair counted off the list of food items he found, hardly believing what he was seeing. He just barely remembered not to slam the last door when he finished his inspection. His eyes swept over the curtains and white noise generators also taking in the sparse furnishings and decorations. The realization hit him all at once, like walking into a glass door, only traveling at the speed of sound. It was all so obvious he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before, and if he hadn't been so caught up in what he "knew" to be true he might have.

Jim Ellison was a Sentinel; not latent, not in the process of coming online, a full-blown, five heightened senses, listen-to-your-heartbeat-across-the-freakin'-room Sentinel!

Blair had to sit down for a moment, lowering his tired body into one of the living room chairs. His mind was spinning with the realization and for a moment all he could feel was disbelief, but the apartment, Jim's behavior, the strange vibes he'd been picking up since meeting the detective, they all led to one conclusion. It didn't make any sense, though. Why would a Sentinel, fully online and functional, go to such an extent to hide themselves? Blair certainly didn't know, and he couldn't think of any reason why, either.

His puzzlement soon gave way to anger and, though Blair knew he had no real reason, he couldn't help feeling betrayed. Jim hadn't told him. True, they hadn't known each other very long, just about two weeks, really. Still, Blair hadn't been unapproachable; he'd tried to be the exact opposite. Looking around again, Blair shook his head. Jim had been a full Sentinel for much longer than two weeks. Yet that was all the more reason why he should have mentioned something to Blair. Didn't Jim know the risk he was taking not telling anyone? How dangerous it was for a Sentinel without a Guide?

Aggravation drove Blair to his feet again and sent his pacing across the living room. "That stupid, stubborn…What the _Hell _was he thinking?" He bit off his almost rant as he realized his voice was growing louder with every word. The need for quiet didn't settle his racing thoughts, though.

Jim had known what he was, knew what the dangers were. He'd known when he'd gone off to crime scenes all through the week, into that construction site earlier that day. Who knew how long Jim had been hiding his condition from the world. He kept everyone at arm's length with his reputation and unapproachable nature, so there was probably no one who really knew the truth. Blair certainly knew how hard Jim tried to keep him away. Maybe it was partly _because _he was a Guide that Jim was always so unpleasant to Blair. That would make sense considering what Jim had been hiding. But the hiding itself still didn't make any sense! Why would he hide in the first place? Sentinels weren't discriminated against in public or the work force, almost the opposite. There was plenty of support and aid to anyone who needed it. If he got injured the hospital could accidentally kill him if they didn't know he was a Sentinel. Any way Blair looked at it, he couldn't see any reason why someone would actively go and hide abilities like that from the world.

"Probably why he got away with it for so long," Blair muttered to himself, frustrated.

Blair's eye's drifted over to the phone sitting on Jim's kitchen counter. He should call the Center; tell them about Jim; get him the help he needed, even if he didn't realize it. Blair knew he should do it, everything he had been taught in all of his Guide classes told him a Sentinel couldn't survive alone for very long.

Still, Blair hesitated. Jim _had _survived on his own. He didn't know for how long but certainly long enough, none of the modifications for Sentinels in the apartment looked new. Plus, if he did turn Jim into the Center, Jim would never talk to him again, not that he spoke very much now, but he probably wouldn't even want to see Blair. True, that wouldn't be any different than the current situation, either, but Jim would absolutely _despise_ him. He didn't want that. A part of Blair still thought that if he kept at it he could crack Jim's personal wall, but if he turned Jim over to the Center there wouldn't be any chance for that. They would take him away; give him a different Guide, one trained to deal with late bloomers. That more than anything decided it for Blair. He liked Jim, not for the way Jim had been treating him since they met, but for what Blair knew he felt just beneath the surface and a small part of him felt bad for the man. Living in hiding, purposefully separating himself from everyone in fear of his secret being found out. Blair could feel the loneliness and fear seeping from the walls around him.

"So no Center for now," Blair said to himself. That meant he was on his own in dealing with Jim. Even without the Center, Blair knew Jim wouldn't be happy with someone knowing, much less a Guide. This would take some thinking over, and planning. He looked up to the doorway into Jim's bed room. The room was still and silent, pitch black from the curtains. He blinked, realizing how dark the entire apartment had become as the sun went down. Only a faint orange glow remained from the one uncovered window. Blair tripped and bumped his way over to the dim outline of a lamp, switching it on. He wasn't surprised when the lamp only emitted a dim yellow glow. It was enough for him to use, though. There was time before Jim woke. He had time to figure out exactly what he needed to do and after that he could wait for however long it took.

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Jim couldn't describe the feeling he had as his tired brain struggled its way to consciousness. It wasn't happy, per say, but more calm and quiet than anything. Jim was pretty sure it was impossible to wake up feeling good after the reaction he'd had at the raid. He didn't remember a lot but he knew it would come back over the course of the next several hours. At the moment, though all he wanted to do was lay there and revel in the quiet. Silence as complete as that didn't come often for a Sentinel, so he intended to take advantage of it while he could.

Jim shifted slightly under the covers, a part of his brain wondering on how he'd been coherent enough to crawl under the covers, when he realized that it wasn't as perfectly quiet as he originally thought. There was a low thumping just below the perception of normal hearing. It beat a steady rhythm and seemed to increase the calm around him rather than disturb it. He relaxed into the sound, his still fuzzy brain ready to go back to sleep when another sound caught his attention, this one much more recognizable and much less welcome. More than just the sound he could feel the weight spread out over his feet at the bottom of the bed.

Unwillingly, Jim crack one eye, then two as he craned his neck to see the bottom of the bed. The room was dark, much darker than it should have been. While he could maybe believe that he'd been with-it enough to pull the blankets over him and kick off his shoes (though, now with his waking brain he highly doubted that) Jim had a much more difficult time believing that he would have remembered to close the shades before collapsing into bed. This thought left him as his eyes adjusted to the almost nonexistent light and he caught hold of two glowing eyes of his over-sized housecat lounging across his feet at the foot of the bed. The rumbling purr emitting from its throat only increased as it caught Jim's eye.

Jim scowled at the cat. He was not in the mood to deal with spirit animals with delusions of house pet. Besides, the cat was late. It was supposed to show up yesterday, or whenever, _before_ Jim walked into a construction site filled with saw dust and turpentine fumes.

"Shove off fur ball, I'm not in the mood," Jim mumbled, though it barely penetrated his mouth, much less the quiet of the room. He tried kicking his feet to emphasize his point but the cat only settled down more.

Then, to Jim's near horror, another pair of glowing eyes joined them on the bed. Except these belonged to _wolf_. A wolf that had trotted in from the doorway and was now laying down next to the Panther with a settled familiarity.

For a moment, Jim only stared. He'd never seen more than one spirit animal at a time, even then only ever the panther, and unless timber wolves had taken to wandering the streets of Cascade and entering random apartment buildings to snuggle up with inhabitants' spirit guides, Jim couldn't find any other explanation than it being another one of _them_.

But where the HELL had it _come _from?

"No!" was all Jim could get out as he stared in disbelief at the two spirit guides lounging on his covers, "You are _not _allowed to have any friends over!" He knew it was slightly irrational to be talking to spirit animals this way, but his stunned brain couldn't seem to come to any other reaction.

The panther didn't really take any notice. Simply let out a very wide yawn before swiping a tongue over the wolf's head and directing a challenging eye in Jim's direction.

Jim grabbed a pillow, not quite sure what he would do with it considering both animals were spirits, when he froze. He'd only just fully noticed the low thumping he'd heard subconsciously before and realized exactly what it meant.

Suddenly, he felt wide awake.

Yanking his feet out from under the heavy cat, Jim threw them over the side of the bed. Touching them down to the floor, Jim stumbled over a pair of shoes left on the floor. He picked up the shoes and looked at them a moment while his hearing picked up on the heartbeat down in the living room.

"Sandburg," Jim growled to himself, "Son of a bitch."

Jim took the shoes and stalked toward the stairs, worst case scenarios running through his head like a hundred yard dash. There was a light on in the living room, the only light in the apartment. All the curtains were drawn and even a towel thrown over a side of the lamp to prevent unnecessary glare from shining into his bed room. The white noise generators were also spread around the room. He could hear them creating a small bubble safe from the ambient noises of the outside world. Any notice he may have taken of the man's consideration was drowned out by the realization that Sandburg _knew_. The thought sent rocks dropping through Jim's stomach.

Even as he looked down at the living room and heard the muffled clatter of someone in the kitchen, Jim didn't know what he was going to do. He didn't have a leg to stand on. Now that Sandburg knew, all the kid had to do was make a phone call, if he hadn't already, and that was it. He could try to intimidate him, but Jim knew that wouldn't work. Blair had already lasted two weeks of Jim's cold shoulder and it hadn't scared him off yet. Maybe if he explained to the Guide the situation, they could come to an understanding…

_Fat chance_, Jim said to himself, _he's going to tell, he's a _Guide _it's his _job _to tell_.

Maybe, if Jim tried a little bit of intimidation mixed with a deal. That could work, right? Jim honestly didn't know, but he was sure he wasn't going down without a fight.

Heading down the stairs, Jim decided to start out with the aggressive approach. He was mad enough that he didn't think he go with any other emotion at the moment. The sounds from the kitchen continued as he crossed the living room. Though Jim knew that Sandburg knew, he still waited until the other man was in sight before calling his name.

"Sandburg! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

Sandburg gave a satisfying jump, spilling hot water over his hands from his mug, as he spun around.

"Jim!" he gasped, wincing slightly from the water. "You're awake."

"Clearly," Jim growled taking the attitude of dealing with a somewhat slow suspect in the interrogation room. "Mind answering the question now?"

Sandburg rolled his eyes, the worried look on his face hardening as he turned back to finish making his tea. "Oh I don't know, I just thought it might be a bad idea to leave a full blown Sentinel alone while they're in the middle of a reaction."

Jim's scowl deepened at the reply. "I was handling it."

Sandburg paused a little at that before continuing his movements. With a reluctant half nod he agreed in the most annoyingly reasonable voice Jim had ever heard, "Actually you were. I didn't have to do anything for your sensory wise, except setup these little safe guards," he swept a hand around the apartment, "but I did see you driving yourself home, or getting yourself in bed."

Jim opened his mouth to interrupt, but Sandburg continued on regardless.

"So Jim, exactly how long have you been hiding the fact that you're a Sentinel?"

"That is none of your business," Jim ground out, stiffening, if possible, more than before with his arms crossed in front of him. He was losing control of this conversation, if he ever had control of it to begin with.

The calm remain, but Sandburg tensed slightly, an edge of anger coming into his tone, "Oh, I think it's my business, considering I'm a Guide."

"And that automatically gives you the right to pry into every aspect of my life, does it?" Jim exploded, unable to contain himself at the other man's tone.

The anger came through and shattered Sandburg's calm façade, his voice rose and took a harsh tone, "It's too dangerous Jim! Don't you realize the number of things that could go wrong? The number of unknown factors, especially in a city that react badly with your senses? Don't you get it? It's for-"

"For my own good," Jim finished for him, trying to keep his voice lowered in case the neighbors heard but unable to rid it of the bitterness. "Bullshit. I've seen how Sentinels live under your care. They're not allowed to make their decisions, live their own lives. Do you honestly think people are really going to want to live like that? Maybe in other places, but not here. We've gotten just a little too used to the whole idea of personal freedom."

Sandburg opened his mouth to deny the accusation but it was Jim's turn to cut him off.

"Can you honestly tell me that if I had gone to you Guides that you would have let me live wherever I wanted, eat what I wanted, worked where I wanted, done what I wanted?"

For a moment, the other man didn't seem to know how to respond to that. His mouth snapped shut with a click and a heavy silence fell between the two. The white noise generators worked unnoticed in the background and the shadows hung thick outside the dim circle of light from the lamp.

"You…" Sandburg faltered slightly, "You would have had options."

"Options like I had in the Army?" Jim scoffed, "I've know what those options are like. I could give my opinion but in the end I'm at service of what the higher-ups decide. That's fine in the military. At least, they're honest about it and there's a bigger purpose to it, you and your Center like to pretend you're honestly giving people a choice instead of just forcing them or manipulating them with threats about their health. Nobody's going to want to live that way, not their whole life."

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Blair stayed silent for a long time after that, his forgotten tea cooling in his hand. Jim had said more in those few moments than Blair had heard in the past few weeks. The man spoke as though he'd been keeping those sentiments bottled inside him for a long time and they had come bubbling up like soda exploding from a can. Blair didn't know how to respond. He'd never thought of it that way. It just didn't make sense to him. People who were sick got medical help; people who were in danger called the police. There wasn't any sense in condemning yourself to a life of pain and difficulty when there was open and easy help within reach. _Then again, those people didn't give up control of their entire life to a group of relative strangers_, another voice in his head whispered. True, he had to admit that some people refused police protection for that exact reason, they didn't see living life in protective custody as life at all. Still, those were relatively temporary, limited problems. A Sentinel's situation was in many ways much more complex and dangerous. It would be like refusing treatment for cancer. It went against every self protective instinct in human nature. It wasn't as though they forced people by gun point; there weren't any laws forcing Sentinels to live a certain way. Still, the uneasy feeling of doubt started to grow.

Suddenly, Blair realized the full impact of Jim's words. He'd spoken in the plural, this entire time Blair, himself, had been thinking in the plural, multiple Sentinels, not just one. "Jim," Blair said, his face paling as the horrible thought struck him, "Are there others?"

"Others?" Jim grunted, his face shutting down and refusing to take Blair's meaning.

"Others!" Blair nearly yelled, "Other Sentinels, hiding!"

Jim stared at him for a moment, a hard glint in his eye, before turning away. The response was flat and definitive. "No."

"You're lying," Blair nearly hissed. He didn't need Jim's confirmation, he already knew. That gut feeling that he had about so many things, the same one that had tried to warn him about Jim if he hadn't ignored it for so long, told him it was true. "How many?"

Jim didn't answer. His shoulders stiffened and his back was ramrod straight, jaw tense and hands clenched. Blair knew he wouldn't be getting any answers from the stubborn man in front of him. The anthropological observer in Blair noticed the same steel-strong loyalty that was so common in Sentinels clamping down, like when a Sentinel's Guide was in danger, but here the Sentinel was not protecting his Guide for an outside danger. He was protecting other _Sentinels _from the _Guides_. The idea was so foreign, so irrational that Blair couldn't say anything for several minutes.

Blair finally shattered the crushing silence that had flooded the room. "That many, huh?" he whispered, unable to speak any louder.

What had happened? Why would Sentinels suddenly decide to hide from their Guides, the very people who were trying to help them? Was it something the Guides had done? Blair felt a surge of failure in his chest. He knew it was probably not due to any personal mistake, but knowing that the Guides in general could have caused such a rift of distrust cut deeply. What had they done wrong? Had they really become as controlling as Jim claimed?

"Why?" he finally choked out, his throat dry and voice cracking.

Jim looked at him for a long moment, his gaze cool and serious but without the heat from earlier. "It's like I said, nobody wants to be told how to live their own life," he finally said in a flat voice.

"It's not as bad as that," Blair responded automatically, though the words seemed hollow as he thought of all the new regulations pushed through in the past ten years concerning Sentinel living habits. No, there weren't any laws, yet, but there might as well have been.

"No?" Jim asked, a hard edge in his voice. "Not too long ago they found another Sentinel living near by. Took him into the community home and went through all his belongings, getting rid of what they deemed "unsafe" for a Sentinel. They didn't even give him a choice in the matter."

"That was-" Blair started. He was going to say "standard procedure" but stopped himself short when he realized it would only prove Jim's point. "Wrong," he finally had to admit as he deflated, "They shouldn't have done that."

Jim didn't say anything more. He didn't need to, Blair reflected as his gaze drifted to some unfixed point. He finally understood, at least in part, and, thinking of his own mother and her constant efforts to evade the restrictions from the all powerful "man", he could see why people would go to the lengths Jim did to hide their condition. It was a sobering thought and frightening when he thought of where it could lead.

_Where it _could _lead_, Blair reminded himself, there was time to change it. They could redirect, change their approach, find a way that would both help Sentinels and allow them to keep the autonomy and independence that was clearly desired. Still, that didn't mean that Jim should be left to struggle with his senses alone. If anything, the incident at the raid showed that even with his impressive control he could use the help and support of a Guide. Plus, the scientist in Blair raised its head, wondering how Jim managed to get through days, months, years, of surviving with Sentinel senses without the help of a Guide or the specialized treatment provided to known Sentinels. How was the man still healthy? How was he still sane?

"You're right," Blair said, nodding his head as he ran over his plan in his head. "You're completely right. I won't tell them"

The statement seemed to through Jim for a loop. "You won't… You haven't?... You didn't call?" Jim asked, the astonishment and disbelief apparent in his tone.

"No," Blair said after a pause. Blair moved to where Jim had dropped his shoes carelessly on the floor. Putting them on, he stood and looked directly at the Sentinel. "But come tomorrow there's going to be some new rules. One: You don't leave the building without me right beside you-"

Jim opened his mouth to interrupt, his eyes darkening with the new turn of events.

Blair continued on a little louder, "I want to see how you cope. Plus, we can't have another episode like today occurring. Two: I'm moving in for a little while just as a precaution. Three…" he didn't really have a three but he made one up anyway, "you have to start being nicer to people, no sense in your bad mood ruining everyone else's day. Four…well, we'll make it up as we go along."

"You can't seriously expect me-" Jim started.

Blair folded his arms over his chest, appearing as much an immovable object as possible, "Or I can make a phone call right now."

Jim's voice lowered to a hiss, "That's blackmail."

Thinking over it for a second, Blair nodded, "Yes, yes it is, and while I usually don't approve of those things, in this case I'm willing to make an exception. Don't go anywhere. It's almost midnight; I'll be back in twenty minutes." Then, without another word and before Jim could answer, Blair spun on the spot and left the apartment.

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Well I hope you liked it. I think it was my favorite chapter to write so far. Please leave a review and let me know what you think, good or bad, it's all welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry about the long wait. I'm a couple months overdue with this, I know, but here it is. I don't have a beta so any mistakes are mine alone and I apologize in advance for them. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and/or favorite this story. I probably would have given up on the story if it weren't for all the reviews staring at me in my email box. I hope you like this next chapter!

As Always, I don't own anything.

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Jim woke the next morning fully expecting a visit from the Center, mainly consisting of a few overly-smiling Guides and several very large assistants. He'd taken his shower the previous night while Sandburg was gone, to get rid of the chemical residues for a good night's sleep. So he moved directly for the bureau of clothes across from his bed. Jim dressed with the air of a man preparing for his own execution, unconsciously choosing one of his more comfortable shirts and jeans for work. If you're going to be carted away against your will might as well be comfortable.

But that was not the case. No one showed at his door, there was no one out in the street, the phone did not ring.

When Jim walked out of his room and looked down on his apartment, it was just Sandburg on his couch, a bag of overnight-necessities dropped nearby on the floor. Jim rolled his eyes and moved down to the kitchen to make some breakfast. While walking past the passed out Guide Jim looked over the many books and notes spread across the coffee table. Sandburg had come back the night before with a bag of extra clothes and essentials and another filled with research materials concerning Sentinels. He'd tried bombarding Jim with questions about his control and past experiences, but Jim had simply turned down his hearing and ignored the other man, heading to bed immediately. Obviously, when he couldn't get answers directly from Jim Sandburg had turned to his precious books.

For a moment, Jim considered letting the man continue to sleep and waking him five minutes before heading to the precinct. Watching Sandburg panic to get ready might be entertaining. Or, he could just leave all together and not wake the Guide at all. Then he'd have an hour or two at the office without a tagalong tripping at his heels. He smiled slightly at the thought as he stepped back into the kitchen. It'd be nice working alone again.

Jim shook his head a moment later as he fished a mug out from the cabinet. It could very well backfire. He didn't know Sandburg all that well. For all he knew, the Guide could get offended and call the Center. The way it was now, at least only one person knew his secret. He didn't want to take the risk before he knew how far he could push the other man. Till then, they were going to have to work together.

Plus, Sandburg would need time to clean up his mess.

Coffee made and in his mug, Jim moved back to Sandburg's side. He picked up one of the larger text books left out on the coffee table. Looking over the title without really reading it, Jim bounced it up and down in his hand slightly, testing the weight as Sandburg snored softly on the couch. He judged the distance, holding the book high above the ground near where Sandburg's head lay half on the couch pillow. With a little toss into the air, Jim let the book go. It dropped to the wood floor like a stone, landing flat on its cover and creating a painfully loud BAM on impact. Jim winced slightly at the loud sound, but his flinch was nothing compared to Sandburg's startled cry as he jolted upright on the couch, eyes wide.

"What the hell?" Sandburg half gasped, half yelled, sleep still in his voice and demeanor.

"Get up, we have to get to the office," Jim ordered, turning back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. "And you need to clean up your paper-party before we go, too. I'm not leaving the house in a mess."

"What time is it?" Blair slurred behind him.

"Six thirty."

"Six thirty?" Jim heard Sandburg mumble under his breath, "That's way too early."

Jim raised his voice from the kitchen as he cleaned up his few dishes, "I leave for the office in twenty minutes. If you're not ready, I'm leaving you behind."

Blair mumbled a few choice phrases beneath his breath that Jim was sure were meant for him. So he ignored them and continued cleaning up the kitchen. In the living room, Sandburg finally got off the couch and shuffle into the bathroom with one last mutinous retort about a shower, whether Jim liked it or not.

Jim took the opportunity to retreat to his bed room, grabbing several white noise generators on his way. Once safely in his room he place the generators along the opening to the door, hoping to block out as much of noise from the shower as possible. He then focused on one of the relaxation techniques he'd mastered over the years. Something he could work through quickly, preparing him for the day before he left for work. It was harder to achieve the necessary level of relaxation with Sandburg in the apartment, but after a few minutes he managed it and set about centering his senses. Even with the small amount of silence and solitude he was able to regain some of the balance he'd need for the day ahead.

"Are you _meditating_?" an incredulous voice cut through Jim's thoughts as he worked through the final stages of bringing himself back to the world.

Jim fought back a wave of irritation, forcing himself to maintain a calm center as he opened his eyes. Still, he couldn't help the glare worthy of spontaneous combustion that came over his face, not that he tried very hard. "For your information, Sandburg," Jim said with only a twinge of sarcasm, "controlling Sentinel senses takes concentration and balance."

Sandburg seemed a little loss for words for a moment as Jim scooped up the white noise generators and brushed past him down to the living room. He pushed the generators to the very back of their cupboard and headed for his jacket. "Well…I know _that_…I just didn't picture you as the meditation type…" Sandburg muttered following him down the stairs to the living room.

Jim pulled on his light weight jacket, scanning the room for any tell tale signs and grabbed his keys out of the basket by the door. "It's better than the other methods of coping out there." He could hear Sandburg scrambling for his bag and coat as the door swung shut and he started down the stairs.

"Other methods? What other methods?" Sandburg called out skipping a few steps to catch up with Jim.

Jim flinched slightly as some of the cold water from Sandburg's hair splattered his neck from behind. His frown deepened as he glanced at the close doors they pass on each floor. Jim shook his head, this was not a conversation for a public place, even if that public place was a deserted stair well at 6:50 in the morning when everyone else in their apartment was still asleep. "Never mind, just get in the car."

Jim had never considered murder as a good solution to anything, but it was looking better and better with each minute spent in traffic with Sandburg. The man didn't seem capable of remaining silent as he fired off one question after another, sometimes with no seeming correlation between the two of them.

"If you were afraid I would find out, why did you just take time off when I first got here?" he asked, a curious frown covering his face, the same curious frown he'd had on for the past five minutes.

"Simon wouldn't give me the time off," Jim grumbled more to himself with an immense amount of regret in his voice. He checked the rearview mirror as he navigated through traffic; Sandburg was already on the next question.

"Do you know any other Sentinels personally? Do you keep in contact with each other?"

Jim rolled his eyes, refusing to answer. He certainly wasn't dumb enough to go around associating with other people who could potentially get themselves caught and himself along with them. He'd seen the same scenario play out in gangs and drug rings while working for the department. Then, even if he did happen to know another Sentinel by chance, he wouldn't just go and blithely tell a Guide, any Guide.

Blair huffed at the continued silence. "Fine, if you don't want to answer any questions about other Sentinels then don't, let's focus on you for the moment. How long have you been practicing meditation?"

Jim heaved a sigh as they hit yet another red light. The drive seemed to be taking twice as long as normal. Clearly, karma was bitch-slapping him in the face, probably for being a bastard to Sandburg. "If I tell you, will you leave the questions alone for a while?"

"If you tell me about the meditation thing and how you cope," Sandburg agreed, pulling out a ragged spiral bound note book, "but it might take more than one question," he added quickly.

"You've got five," Jim's tone broke no argument as they waited behind a semi-truck blocking the street.

"Five?" Sandburg groaned, "C'mon! What am I supposed to get out of five questions?"

Keeping his eyes straight on the road, watching the trailer back up slowly, Jim didn't offer any sympathy, "Plenty if you ask the right question. I've conducted interrogations with less. And there's a time limit till we get to the Department."

"Fine," Sandburg harrumphed to himself, before raising his voice with the first of his five questions, "How long have you been meditating to control your senses?"

"Since they came online."

Sandburg waited for Jim to elaborate, but the pause just stretched out in tense silence. "Ok. What other methods are there for managing your senses, besides meditation?"

Jim sighed again as the truck driver started arguing with someone in the road. Yeah, karma was a bitch. "Use your head Sandburg. How do people normally cope with stress and pain?"

"You don't mean drugs?" Sandburg asked, half disbelieving, half horror.

Shrugging, Jim settled back against his seat. "Drugs, alcohol, cutting, whatever can take the mind off it. I'm sure there's some out there that use less dangerous methods, acupuncture or acupressure or whatever it is would probably help, too, but that would mean telling someone else, unless they could do it themselves."

Sandburg sat in stunned silence for a moment, his eyes swinging back to the truck-blocked road. "But…don't they realize what those things can do to them It's a death sentence."

Jim rubbed his face hard with one hand, suddenly he was very tired. "Sure, doesn't mean they care, though. In their minds, they're probably trading one death sentence for another."

Sandburg inhaled slightly, looking as though he'd been slapped. Seeing his expression gave Jim a slight, only a slight, twinge of guilt.

"Look, it's nothing personal. It's just…Oh, for crying out loud," Jim undid his seat belt and climbed out of the car, heading toward the two arguing men.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Blair watched as Jim approached the two arguing men. He was still trying to absorb the information, get over the shock of it all and Jim's last comment hadn't helped in any way. He just hadn't thought about it, hadn't realized. It made sense when said out loud, as Jim had done. It almost seemed obvious when added to human psychology and sociology, but it was no less disturbing despite that. He was struck again by a strong sense of failure. Somehow, they'd failed. Sentinels didn't trust their own Guides, the same people who were supposed to be there to help them. Then, more distressing than that, _Jim _didn't trust him. He could feel it rolling off the man, even felt the remains of it radiating off the now empty driver's seat next to him. True, he was black mailing Jim, not something that generally inspired much trust, but it hadn't started out that way. He'd tried to be friendly and open and he really did just want to help.

Blair watched as Jim approached the two arguing men, trying to settle the dispute before it blossomed into anything larger. Despite all of Jim protestations about being freer without a Guide, he was almost as much of a prisoner to his senses as he was to a Guide, if the man's home life was anything to go by. Now, if only he could make Jim see that. What he needed to do was find a way to help Jim, prove that he could make the Sentinel's life better than it was without turning him into the Center or giving Jim's abilities away to anyone. He needed to show that they could find a middle ground, both for himself as much as for Jim. If they could work that out, then other Sentinels and Guides could do the same.

Perhaps, that was how it used to be decades ago, before Sentinels started disappearing. Blair couldn't remember reading much about it for his classes, but all those text books were written by the Center or similar sources, and they had already shown themselves to be a less than trustworthy source for that topic of information. What he needed were the original documents, sources from before the Center was established located in his office back at the college. If he started out from scratch, threw out everything he thought he knew about Sentinels and worked on the assumption that everything he'd learned up to that point was skewed and flawed, maybe he'd find where they had gone wrong and where they could fix it.

The truck door opening and closing jerked Blair out of his thoughts as Jim climbed back in the truck, grumbling under his breath. Ahead of them the semi truck finally shifted into gear and pulled away, freeing the road for through traffic. They were moving for several minutes before Blair realized he still had questions and his time was growing short as they drew nearer to the station.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered to himself, "Questions." Blair skimmed over his few notes, trying to pick up where they'd left off.

"Better make it a good one, you've only got one more," Jim said next to him, sounding half put out that Blair had remembered and half pleased to inform Blair he'd reached his last.

Blair frowned, running over the previous conversation through his head. "No, I still have three left!"

Jim flicked off his fingers as he counted the questions off for Blair. "How long I'd been meditating, any other possible methods, the one about drugs, and then the one asking if they knew what they were doing."

Blair threw hands up, dropping his pen in frustration. "Those weren't real questions!" he protested in frustration.

"Sounded like questions to me," Jim growled back.

"Well, they weren't the ones I meant to ask," Blair snapped, as they pulled into the department parking garage.

"Not my problem, Sandburg," Jim said, sounding smug as he killed the engine and jumped out of the truck.

Blair sat and glared for a second, trying to reign in his frustration before hurrying to follow. He had to jog to catch up to Jim and barely made it before the doors to the elevator closed on him, striking Blair with a strong sense of déjà-vu from the first time he'd met the detective. He pushed back the annoyance he felt, realizing he should have recognized what Jim was on that first meeting, and settled from aggravation at the detective's stubbornness.

"You're going to have to answer my questions sometime," Blair ground out crossing his arms over his chest.

"We'll see about that," Jim replied with a shrug. He kept his eyes on the ascending floor numbers. If Blair didn't know better, he'd say Jim was actually starting to enjoy himself.

"You're underestimating how annoying I can become," Blair threatened.

"And you're underestimating how far I can turn down my hearing," Jim countered as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Blair glared at Jim's back but refrained from another comment, not wanting to draw attention to them, despite the office being nearly empty. If he was going to gain Jim's trust he was going to have to treat Jim's secret as his own. Instead, he settled down in his usual seat, determined not to let the man get to him anymore.

The office slowly filled up and the work day set off to a slow start, the easy normalcy striking Blair when he remembered the contrasting tension of the day before. It was almost like the hostage situation had never even happened. He shook his head to himself, amazed at how quickly the officers moved on. There was a tense moment when Captain Banks stopped by briefly to ask how Jim was doing since his allergic reaction, his eyes switching between the two men suspiciously, but he moved on to his office after a few vague answers. Jim shot Blair a glare, as though blaming him of the entire thing and after that, no other mention was made of the entire incident except to clarify something in a report.

Blair tried his best to act as though nothing had changed, but it grew increasingly difficult as the day went on, his mood darkening and his temper shortening. Jim, on the other hand, was in much better spirits than the previous night, not that that was saying much. After the man's initial aggravation wore off, and especially after the conversation in the elevator, Jim seemed to realize that he had something to hold over Blair. Now, instead of ignoring Blair's existence and avoiding him altogether, Jim kept a close eye on Blair at all times. Blair thought Jim was probably making sure he would keep his promise and not inform anyone of Jim's abilities. Blair was even noticed Jim using his senses once or twice to listen into conversations he was having with other members in the department. However, when Blair tried to ask even the vaguest questions about Jim's ability the man suddenly became deaf and ignorant to his presence. If Blair didn't know better he would say Jim was mocking him.

Lunch came and Blair couldn't take it anymore. He stood, shuffling his notes around before stuffing them into his bag. "I have to go run an errand. I'll be back in a bit."

Jim stopped his typing and turned to face Blair. "Where are you going?" he asked, instantly suspicious, his eyes hardening.

Blair rolled his eyes, pausing as more people left the large room for lunch. "I'm just going to go get some additional information, to help me help you," Blair added in a huff, "Especially since you're being less than cooperative." He patted down his pockets, looking for the keys to his car still sitting in the department garage from the day before. Not finding them, he realized they were still in pants from the raid, sitting on the couch of Jim's apartment. He'd have to take the bus.

"I know you're new to this whole detective thing, Chief, but if you hadn't noticed, I don't need your help," Jim said, turning back to his computer.

Blair dropped his voice so as not to be over in the nearly deserted office, "Well, considering that you admit to having little or no experience with other…people with your talents, you can hardly be trusted to know what's good, bad, or normal. I think I'd like to double check for myself, thanks very much."

"Someone's in a bad mood," Jim muttered under his breath, a mocking lilt to his words.

"You've been using your senses all day today!" Blair accused, "I've been watching you."

Jim just shrugged noncommittally.

"Don't try to deny it!" Blair snapped frustration truly rising to the surface making it difficult to keep his voice down. "You're doing it on purpose. You never did it before."

"That's because I had to look out for the nosy Guide that _wasn't _supposed to and didn't know," Jim bit back, "Now, I _still _have to look out for the nosy Guide who _wasn't _supposed to but does know. Now drop it, we're in a public place."

Blair rolled his eyes again, turning away from the detective. He moved around the desk and stopped just on the other side to face Jim. "I'll be back. _Don't_ go out anywhere without me, especially on any calls. I want to come back and find you sitting right where I left you."

It was Jim's turn to roll his eyes, a big enough action that Blair caught it though he was fully facing the detective. "Scared I'll take off on you?" Jim asked.

"Scared I'll turn you in?" Blair responded, feeling like he was in the middle of a Mexican stand-off.

Jim turned to look at him again, standing out of his chair and leaning on the desk with both palms. Then, dropping his voice so low that Blair had to lean forward to hear him, Jim said, "The Center doesn't like it when Sentinels hide from them. I can't imagine them being anymore thrilled at the idea of someone helping one hide." Jim dropped back into his chair again and turned to his computer.

Blair stared at Jim's head for a moment before turning and leaving for the elevator, still turning Jim's words over in his mind. He hadn't thought of that and the sudden realization frightened him. What he was doing right now could get him into serious trouble with the Center. He wasn't just not reporting a Sentinel, he was helping one better survive without a Guide, aiding and abetting as they called it here in the station. Except it wasn't aiding and abetting, Blair told himself. You aided and abetted criminals doing criminal things, illegal things that were against the law. There wasn't a law that said a Sentinel had to report himself to the Center if his senses came on line.

Still, even as Blair reassured himself of that fact, he could still feel his stomach sinking along with the long elevator ride to ground level. Just because it wasn't considered illegal yet didn't mean he'd win any points for doing it. If someone found out at the Center what he and Jim were doing, they would both be in trouble. They could take Blair's license to be guide away, ban him from working with Sentinels ever again. That would be terrible, working with Sentinels was all he'd ever wanted to do ever since he was a kid.

If Blair told them now, he could probably get away with it. They would ask him why it had taken him so long before reporting it, but he could make up an excuse. Still, that wouldn't help Jim any. They would send him to a community, take him out of his apartment, suspend him from his job, give him an official Guide.

Blair would never seem him again.

So Blair was right back to the original reason why he didn't make the phone call in the first place. He liked Jim and he wanted to keep him, maybe not as a Sentinel, Jim already seemed fairly capable with his senses and had no interest in having a Guide, but at least as a friend.

The doors closed again and Blair realized he'd been standing in the elevator for several minutes after it had reached the ground floor. He shook himself and headed out, glancing around him at the many strangers milling about the entrance lobby to the station. He hurried to the bus stop and waited impatiently for the bus to arrive that would take him to the university stop.

Before, Blair had been eager to get away from the detective and his aggravating attitude that had appeared after the morning drive, but now Blair just wanted to finish his errand and get back where he could keep an eye on the Sentinel. The fear that Jim could have a reaction he couldn't handle mixed with the new fear that Jim would do something to give himself away. He found himself glancing nervously at the strangers passing by him on street and then standing on the bus as it pulled up and he boarded. He could help but wonder if any of them worked for the Center. He certainly didn't recognize any of them. Blair closed his eyes a moment and calmed himself enough to feel if any of them were Sentinels or Guides on board.

A subtle psychic sensation from the back of the bus made Blair's eyes snap open and a gasp escape from his mouth as he turned toward the source of the sensation. Luckily, the bus pulled away from the curb at that precise moment and no one noticed Blair sudden reaction, no one except the person who had set him off. Blair tried to keep his gaze inconspicuous as he glanced around the back of the bus and found the person staring at him with a mix of fear and suspicion. If Blair hadn't been so highly skilled at feeling out Sentinels, and if he hadn't know what to feel for he never would have noticed the woman Sentinel half buried in groceries in the back corner. She watched him watching her, the fear obvious in her eyes, and Blair knew she was like Jim, a Sentinel hiding in plain sight. He turned his gaze away, not liking the look in her eyes though he could still feel her fear seeping out from behind him and not wanting to frighten the poor woman anymore than necessary.

Still, she got up and left the bus at the next stop, dragging her groceries with an urgency that left a bag of cucumbers sitting on her abandoned seat. Blair watched her go, the seriousness of her and Jim's fear hitting him with renewed vigor and taking a place in Blair's own heart. He glanced around the bus again, hesitant at feeling out the new comers, not wanting to find anyone he wasn't supposed to know about. Was this how Jim felt? He wondered to himself, hunted, wary of the strangers around him? Was this how all fugitives felt? Blair had never been a fugitive himself, but now he could well guess how they felt.

By the time the bus had reached his stop Blair was a bundle of nerves. He couldn't guess how Jim had made it so long without giving anything away. He knew he was being overly paranoid, but he could help to continually scan over the other passengers, checking and double checking those closest to him. When he made it to his cupboard of an office he collapsed against the closed door and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're over reacting," Blair muttered to himself, shaking his head and huffing a laugh at his own paranoia. Maybe the woman's fear had bled over to him in that moment that he had felt her on the bus.

After taking one more deep breath, Blair pushed himself away from the door and began searching through his library of original documents crammed on the narrow shelf space spanning the wall. The first thing he pulled down was Burton's monograph, the first piece of literature he'd ever read about Sentinels when he was young. He'd been over it so many times he probably had it memorized, but he was determined to go over it once more with fresh eyes. Burton was an anthropologist, surely the explorer had written something of the original relationship between Sentinels and their Guides. Blair just needed to approach it with a fresh brain and not impose his own preconceived notions onto the text.

It took Blair almost half an hour to find all the texts he could think of off the top of his head. He'd come back again and pick up more when he'd finished with these. Emptying out a box filled with papers to be recycled, Blair dumped the books, papers, and manuscripts into the box, hefting it up under his arm and shutting off the lights. He fumbled for his keys to lock the door again out in the hall when a voice almost made him jump in surprise.

"Blair!" the smooth voice called out from behind Blair.

Blair turned to face the balding head and dark, bushy eyebrows, "Dr. Hedrick," Blair managed after the barest pause. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just passing by and saw you coming out of your office, thought I'd stop and ask how your project was going," Dr. Hedrick replied with an easy smile.

"Oh," Blair turned back to the door, and finished locking it to buy himself a little time. The paranoia that seemed so ridiculous in his quiet, empty office now seemed perfectly valid with this man standing before him. "It's fine, everything's going well, or as well as can be expected."

Hedrick nodded in understanding. "Was the information I gave you useful at all?"

Blair shifted the box to both hands to keep from fidgeting too much with the line of questioning. "Well, it was really only a matter of curiosity. Just background research, like I said."

"Actually," Hedrick continued when Blair failed to follow up right away, "It was interesting that you brought it up just then. A couple of days later, they found a man who was a full Sentinel for years, covering it up. Would have continued, too, if he hadn't had a nasty reaction to some pesticides in the park."

"Oh, really?" Blair asked, trying to calm his suddenly pounding heart, "I hadn't heard about that."

"I'm not surprised," Hedrick nodded, casually putting his hands in his pockets, "You've been caught up with you project at the police department. They haven't published anything about it yet, so word really hasn't left the Center or University research departments. It's caused quite a stir, though. He's been taken in for psychological examinations last I heard."

"A psych exam?" Blair asked, not liking the sound of that at all. A part of him wondered if word really hadn't left the Center and University yet. It would certainly explain the extreme fear the woman had felt toward him on the bus.

Hedrick shrugged with a brief chuckle as he explained what he must have thought was obvious, "To determine why he hid, naturally. Imagine, a Sentinel purposefully hiding from Guides."

"Maybe he just wanted to be left alone," Blair muttered, mostly to himself. A picture of Jim, so careful in everything to avoid getting caught, sprung to his mind. Jim wouldn't do well in the psych ward of a Sentinel wing at a hospital. A part of Blair cringed just thinking of it.

"What was that?" Hedrick asked, leaning in slightly to hear better.

"Nothing," Blair said. He shifted the box in his arms again, this time because the weight was growing heavy than any nervous fidgeting. Though, it did help to move a bit. He started back down the hall, wanting to get back to Jim and, more importantly, away from Hedrick as soon as possible.

Hedrick didn't seem to notice or think much of Blair's suddenly quick steps down the hallway. He fell in beside Blair with ease, hands still in the pockets of his tan corduroys. "Anyway, I just thought that maybe you'd found someone similar at the police station, with your earlier question and all. They think there may be more of them out there, Sentinels pretending they don't have the senses."

"Dr. Hedrick," Blair said, a part of him desperate to stop that line of thinking before it lead the Center to him and Jim, "Don't be ridiculous, no Sentinel in their right mind would hide from a Guide considering all the dangers in the world."

"True," Hedrick agreed, nodding his head, "But nevertheless, we now have a Sentinel who did exactly that."

"There's bound to be a few crazies in every generation. That doesn't mean there's more out there," Blair countered, wanting to dissuade the man as much as possible.

Hedrick merely shrugged, "We'll see, I hear the Center's going to set up a board to research the possibility. Perhaps, that's where the Sentinels have been disappearing all these years."

"I doubt it," Blair said, putting as much doubt and disbelief into his words as possible.

They had reached the double doors leading out to the parking lot. A few doors back down the hallway opened, letting loose a flood of students into the corridor. Blair glanced back at them, realizing it was the top of the hour if classes were letting out already. Factoring in the time it would take the bus back to the department, he was going to get back much later than he had originally planned.

Dr. Hedrick paused at the door, looking hard at Blair once more before turning back to the building and his own office. "We'll see," he said as he turned. A moment later he was swallowed in the tide of students flowing through the hall.

Blair watched the doctor's back disappear in the crowd, the dropping feeling from before picking up again with renewed vigor. He pushed the door open with his back and hurried down to the bus stop.

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Thanks for reading I hope you liked it! I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner. Please review and let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

I'd first like to apologize for the long wait. This chapter probably won't make up for it, but we're getting close to the end and I'll have a little more free time when my classes are done soon. Thanks for reading and I don't own anything.

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Jim glanced up as the elevator doors closed behind Blair, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't like the idea of Blair going off on his own in case the man got it into his head that Jim really did need the professional help from the Center. Still, he thought his vague threat would work to keep Blair in line at least until he came back to the station. It was true after all. The people at the Center would be just as angry with Blair for helping Jim as they would be at Jim for hiding. He honestly thought Blair was trust worthy. The Guide would have called the Center right off the back if he wasn't. Instead, he'd waited to talk to Jim. Then, this morning he still kept his word and hadn't said anything, hadn't even let on even with Jim using his senses in the office. It was better to be safe than sorry, though, and Jim wasn't going to fully trust Sandburg until he was sure.

Despite the new worry of Blair knowing his secret, Jim was finding himself almost more relaxed now that someone knew than before, when he had to guard against everyone. Keeping himself in check around Sandburg was draining and stressful. It wasn't natural for a Sentinel to completely suppress his senses, something he'd learned early on after coming online. It was better to use them minimally when they wouldn't be noticed and avoid the tension and pain from clamping down on them. He'd been too afraid to do that before, with a Guide sitting right next to him watching his every move, but now he didn't have to worry about that.

Then, better than that, was the realization that hit Jim in the ride to the station that morning. Blair, though a Guide, was also a scientist and as a scientist he was curious. Blair wanted to know how Jim had survived and if he turned Jim in he'd never find out the answer. Blair might be able to turn Jim over to the center, which meant Jim had to do what he said, but Jim was the only one who could answer Blair's unending questions, giving Jim an equal hold over Blair, a Mexican stand-off if there ever was one. The thought made Jim want to laugh at the irony of it.

Aggravating the Hell out of Sandburg was a nice bonus, as well.

That didn't mean that he was starting to like having the Guide around, though. Oh, no, the sooner he could shake Blair and the two of them could go their own separate ways the better. It just meant that Blair knowing wasn't quite the disaster he thought it would be. Maybe he could even get some better ideas on staying hidden now that he had some insider knowledge.

Those thoughts had Jim in an uncharacteristically better mood than normal that held straight through lunch despite Sandburg being late. It fell off again when the man came back looking jumpy and nervous. No one had noticed Jim's good mood, or rather, lack of a bad one. No one came near enough to notice. Plenty of people noticed Sandburg's nerves, however. Sandburg was distracted and jumpy. He seemed to be constantly looking over his shoulder and startled a few times when someone came up behind him. Jim could see the others out of the corner of his eye glancing at the two of them. He could practically hear them wondering what big, bad, Jim Ellison had done to the poor, helpless Guide liaison.

It wasn't important what they thought of him. What mattered was Sandburg was now attracting attention, something he had promised _not_ to do. The man had the worst poker face in the history of bluffs and liars. That or something had happened during lunch, but what could possibly have happened in such a short amount of time?

The thought worried at the back of Jim's mind throughout the afternoon, nearly snapping the third time the Guide spilled his paperwork all over the floor. Jim took a deep, quiet breath and held himself back, at least until they were behind close doors and out of the public eye where he could give a brief but thorough lecture on clandestine ops 101. He had a good thing going here. It had taken him years to set himself up where he felt he had this amount of security. It would be just his luck if Sandburg managed to give away the entire game within the first 72 hours of finding out his secret, intentionally or not.

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The day seemed to crawl by for Blair after he returned to the police department. He couldn't shake his conversation with Dr. Hendrick from his head and the more he thought about it, the more worried he became. He found himself constantly looking over his shoulder to the door, expecting the man to walk through at any moment. It was unreasonable, he knew, but he would have thought finding a full-blown Sentinel living on his own would be unreasonable. More than that, the idea that there would be an entire demographic of Sentinels in hiding had been extremely unreasonable, and yet, there was Jim, the woman on the bus, and the man caught in the park. So Blair didn't feel too bad about harboring unreasonable suspicions, however paranoid they might turn out to be.

Still, it didn't mean he shouldn't turn it down a notch, Blair thought to himself as he jumped at the sound of a door slamming down the hall. He was starting to get strange looks and Jim's mood had deteriorated severely since lunch, clearly annoyed with the way he was handling things. Blair didn't know what else to do, though. This entire situation was way beyond his realm of experience, as he was coming to realize with each passing hour.

Glancing up at the clock for the umpteenth time that day, Blair sigh in relief as he realized it was very nearly time to go home. He started packing away his papers, taking care to go slowly to cover his early start. He could feel Jim's eyes slide over to him and vaguely heard a muttered, "good idea," before Jim started following suit.

They left the office at the top of the hour, on the dot, and were probably the first ones out of the parking garage by the time they pulled out into traffic. It was something of a relief getting out of the crowded office and away from the public eye and Blair wondered if that was how Jim felt every time he left the office to go back to his solitary apartment. Still, being alone with Jim brought up the feelings of guilt and awkwardness of knowing what had happened at lunch time. Blair knew he should tell Jim, if at the very least to put the Sentinel on his guard, but it was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

Blair shot Jim a sidelong glance, trying to scrape up the courage to open his mouth. The man was stiff as ever with the familiar scowl on his face. _He certainly doesn't look open to bad news_, Blair thought, _maybe I should just leave it alone. What he doesn't know won't kill him…or could it_. He grimaced to himself as he remembered about the man caught in the park. Jim had made it this far, but no one had been looking for him. What if they actively started looking for Sentinels hiding their abilities? _Who am I kidding? If he finds out and then discovers I knew about it he'll think I was covering it up….I need to tell him._

Blair took a deep breath and opened his mouth but couldn't think of how to approach the subject so he closed it again. He turned back to the window, trying to think of an excuse to keep his mouth shut. His conscience came right back with a strong "_Tell him_."

_Jim'll hate me. He'll clam up, won't let me help, maybe even kick me out. I'm still trying to get a little trust from him…_

_ You'll loose whatever trust you've gained if you hide this. Tell him._

Blair watched the cars move around them and the scenery flash by. They were getting close to the apartment, maybe he could wait until they got up to Jim's place.

_The longer you wait the harder it'll be, just TELL HIM! _

Blair closed his eyes, knowing it was true. Preparing himself with a deep breath and another covert glance to Jim's unwelcoming profile, he opened his mouth. "Hey, Jim…"

"What?" came the sharp response, not very encouraging.

Blair winced at the question but plowed on anyway. "I uh...ran into Dr. Hedrick today…"

There was an audible pause before Jim replied in a half confused, half aggravated, "So?"

Blair could hear Jim's confusion and realized that the man probably didn't know who Dr. Hedrick was. "Dr. Hedrick works at the university…um, Sentinel medicine, specifically." The temperature took a noticeable dive in the truck cabin but Blair plowed on anyway, determined to get through this, "He mentioned something about finding a Sentinel that had been hiding, you know, like you-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jim stopped him, a heavy note of anxiety in his voice, "Wait a minute! How about starting over at the beginning. Who is this guy?"

Blaire took a deep breath, "Like I said, Dr. Hedrick is a colleague of mine at the college. He specializes in Sentinel medicine and does a lot of work with the Sentinel and Guide Center…" He hesitated, not wanting to tell Jim about his earlier discussion with the doctor that may have tipped Hedrick off to Jim's possible existence but not seeing any other choice, as well. "I we….I asked him a few questions about Sentinels living without Guides…"

Jim slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a dead, squealing stop in the middle of the road. Behind them, cars swerved and blared their horns. Blair cringed as the afternoon traffic stuttered in disarray, curses flew toward them as drivers recovered and skirted around.

"What!" Jim almost yelled as the truck rocked violently back from the sudden stop. "You _told_ him about me?" Jim thundered, having difficulty keeping his voice down, his face a mixture of shock and anger.

"Well, not about _you _you!" Blair quickly tried to explain, "I asked him a theoretical question about Sentinels surviving without a Guide. It was mostly about a case study at the turn of the century. I didn't even _know _about you then! I mean, I had my suspicions, but I didn't _say _anything."

"No, you wouldn't have to since giving them the suspicion, just the idea, is good enough!" Jim countered.

Blair didn't have a response to that, knowing it now. "Uh, Jim, can't we find a better place to talk?" Blair asked instead, noticing a growing line of cars behind them and a renewed volley of horns.

Jim glanced behind, seemingly noticing their position in the road for the first time. With a growl and a quick glance he took off, screeching his tires. The remaining drive to the apartment took half the normal time; thankfully they had already been close. The truck jerked to a halt and Jim was already out of the cab and to the door before Blair could even undo his seatbelt. Blair took a moment to gather the box of reading he brought with him from the university. By the time he made it up to the apartment, Jim had the white noise generators out and placed around the living room. The door being cracked open saved Blair the embarrassment of having to knock for entry. For a moment on the stairs he thought Jim would lock him out of the apartment rather than wanting to discuss the situation, but no, apparently Jim wanted to discuss the situation at length, if the number of generators and Jim's stormy expression were anything to go by.

Part of Blair wished he'd been locked out in the hallway.

The door closed behind Blair with a thud, the click of the latch sounding entirely too soft for the finality of the sound. The hum of the generators quickly fell to the background as an uneasy silence fell over the room as Jim seemed to try and collect his thoughts and reign in his anger, arms crossed over his chest and posture stiff. Blair set down his box and back pack by the couch and waited. The curtains were drawn and a few lamps lit, making the day seem later than it actually was.

"So let me get this straight," Jim started, his words slow, methodical and measured, "Before you realized exactly what I was, but when you had your suspicions, you went and discussed the possibility of a Sentinel living on their own with this Dr. Hedrick. And then, today, you ran into the same doctor while at the University and he mentioned the topic again by bringing up another Sentinel they found who was trying to hide from Guides. Am I getting this straight?"

"Yes," Blair said, keeping his voice as level and factual as possible. He could feel the tension pouring off of Jim like a blocked up steam engine. Hopefully, if they kept the conversation on the facts and focused on the problem they could avoid any explosions. "He said that they had found a Sentinel who had apparently been hiding from the Center and Guides for several years. He was discovered after having a bad reaction to some pesticides in the park. They're keeping the information quiet for now, but they're beginning to entertain the idea that other Sentinels might be out there in hiding."

"Perfect," Jim growled under his breath. He rubbed a hand hard over his face. "When you first went to talk to him, did he sound suspicious, like he thought you might have found something?"

Blair glanced down at the floor for a moment, "Uh, yeah. He seemed to think I had found something at the department, but I told him it was merely curiosity, just an idea that had come tome during my research."

"And how did he seem this time around? Still suspicious?" Jim asked, anger a little closer to the surface.

"Yes," Blair said after a hesitating pause, "He only said it was odd about the timing of my question earlier, but I got the sense that he was suspicious about something."

"What is he like? Would he tell anyone?"

Blair grimaced, Jim wouldn't want any sugar coating. "In a heart beat," he said, "Dr. Hedrick is of the mind that Sentinels can't survive without a Guide. That they need to be protected from themselves and the dangers in the world."

Jim huffed out a heavy breath, turning from Blair and pacing a few times. "You can really pick 'em Sandburg, you know that?" he snapped, his voice picking up in speed and volume. "Haven't you ever heard the term 'discretion' before?"

Blair couldn't help trying to defend himself, "Well, at the time I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't think!" Jim interrupted, his voice raising above Blair's, "and I guess that's why you were so nervous today after lunch. After being noticed by one person at the University, you decide to come back to the station and draw even more attention to yourself. You wouldn't last five minutes in covert ops," Jim finished off to himself. Jim's steps were starting to come as fast as his words and he paced across the floor.

"I can't very well make Hedrick forget about the whole thing," Blair said, though he knew it was a feeble excuse.

"No, but you can distract him, point his interest in another direction!" Jim nearly shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He took in a shaky breath, visibly calming himself before he continued. "He has no reason to suspect anything. I know how the system works, I've been working it for years. Then, even if he did have his suspicions from your conversations he can't prove anything. All he's got right now is assumptions and guess work, but that could quickly change if he decides to dig deeper because of your suspicious behavior!"

"I told him it was just background research!" Blair shot back, "I did everything I could think of to dissuade him when I realized. Besides, I had no control over that other Sentinel getting caught. He most likely would have forgotten the entire thing if it weren't for that."

Jim glared at him for a moment before turning away and growling, "True," as though he hated to admit it. He spun around again a moment later, an accusing finger pointed at Blair. "But you're going to have to grow a pair and get some brains if we're going to keep associating with one another. If something like that happens again don't go around the rest of the day jumping at shadows. Those men I work with are detectives. They didn't get there through their good looks and it's their job to put one and two together!"

"Is that why you've kept everyone in the department away for so long?" Blair blurted, unable to contain the question, "Then why did you remain there if they're such a danger?"

"This is not the time for your ridiculous questions, Sandburg!" Jim burst, turning to pace again. "This is a serious situation. I've no problems with anyone being suspicious and all it takes is a few weeks of your merry company and I find myself under more scrutiny than I've been under since before joining the police department! As far as I'm concerned you can forget about my being a willing participant on whatever lab experiments you have planned for the near future."

"We had a deal," Blair said, moving to follow Jim's path across the room. "I don't tell anyone, you throw me a bone. I still haven't told anyone, like you said he only has suspicions. We don't know if they'll even come to anything! So the deal still stands. I could still tell," Blair threatened, but his heart wasn't in it. He hoped that his rush to preserve what was left of their pact would cover that up in his voice.

"You're assuming I would still be in the area to turn in," Jim countered, turning to face Blair, arms crossed over his chest. He advanced on Blair, making him backup until he was pressed against the door. "You're lucky I'm even letting you continue to stay here." He growled under his breath and spun back around, stalking toward the stairs.

Blair stared at him in disbelief, "You wouldn't really just leave, would you? Run away?"

"There's a difference between running away and a tactical retreat!" Jim threw over his shoulder as he quickly climbed the stairs.

"We're not at war, Jim!" Blair shot back, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Speak for yourself!" Jim shot back before disappearing inside his room.

Blair almost followed him, but held himself back. They both needed to calm down. He didn't want to push Jim too far and risk the man leaving altogether. The situation couldn't be as bad as it seemed, but it would be impossible to make Jim see that now.

"Time," Blair muttered to himself, "Give him time." But time was the one thing they might not have.

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A/N I was a little hesitant in posting this. I wasn't sure if I should make it longer or not. But you have been waiting a long time, and this did seem like a natural break for a chapter so if you feel it was too short or lacking in plot development feel free to let me know. I hope you liked it.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think on your way out. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the long wait. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted/favorite this story! I probably would have stopped working on it a long time ago if it weren't for you. Apologies for any mistakes and typos.

I don't own this.

Chapter 12

The next day pass by in a whirl of tension for Jim, yet agonizingly slow at the same time. If Sandburg had been jumpy the day before, Jim was equally jumpy on the following. Sitting at his desk he felt like he was waiting for his proverbial execution, probably similar to how Sandburg felt the previous afternoon, he briefly thought. The difference was, Jim knew how to hide it. Years of military training and bearing, then working as a cop, not to mention the past couple weeks of working with Sandburg, had given him the discipline to mask his feelings, and cover up his uncertainties. To anyone else watching him he would look no different than on any other day.

Jim's eyes slid over to his unwanted partner sitting at the end of his desk. Blair, however, still looked on edge. He wasn't anywhere near as bad as he was the day before right after that disastrous lunch break, but he still was visibly tense and acting out of character. His heart beat was noticeably higher than normal as it thudded in the background of Jim's hearing.

Jim suppressed a sigh as he turned back to the report he was writing. Part of him felt badly for the kid. Sandburg wasn't use to this type of existence, being constantly in hiding and under the stress of discovery. Still, the academic had tried his hardest since the deal and Jim couldn't deny that Blair had kept up his end of the bargain by not going directly to the authorities. He'd meant to give Sandburg some pointers on how to blend in and not draw attention to himself last night, but the news of Dr. Hedrick had set off his already touchy temper and that had been the end of anything productive for the night. He'd spent the rest of his time in his room trying to get everything back under control.

Jim flinched as someone dropped something heavy on the floor. Well, mostly under control he amended to himself. Stress always made it difficult to control his senses and now he was going to the extra effort of suppressing them again for good measure. Well, trying to suppress them, Jim thought with a roll of his eyes, something which was proving to be next to impossible at the moment. The only success he was having was bringing on the onset of one very large headache.

Stretching the tense muscles in his neck, Jim had to resist the urge to roll his shoulders. He needed a lunch break, they both did, a very long lunch break in a quiet, secluded place; but it was still at least an hour till lunch and he had paperwork to catch up on. Between avoiding Sandburg outside of the office and the intense paranoia that had distracted him at work, the past few weeks had been some of the least productive Jim had ever had. The resulting pile of back work was beginning to crowd out the little elbow room he had on his desk, something very unusual for him. If he didn't get it cleared up soon, some one could notice and then any lectures he gave to Sandburg about keeping his head down and not attracting attention would be null and void. The last thing he needed right now was a sarcastic Guide with the opportunity to throw words back in Jim face.

Glancing back to Sandburg again, Jim watched Blair shift in his seat once again as he jotted down a few notes and returned to observing the interactions of the department, though to Jim it looked more like gazing off into space. Perhaps, he could kill two birds with one stone. Jim grabbed one of the finished case reports waiting for filing and dropped it down in front of the Guide without ceremony, making Blair start at the sudden noise.

"Review that," Jim said, while turning back to the computer screen to work on another.

Sandburg stared for a moment in confusion at the file before looking back to Jim. "I thought I wasn't supposed to be involved with real police work," he said, a slightly sarcastic bite to his words, "After all, I'm just an observer."

"You're not doing any policing," Jim said, "you're reviewing for grammatical errors and general composition, a glorified spell check. Besides, I thought that to observe you wanted to see all aspects of the police world. Now, check all."

Sandburg grumbled a few choice words under his breath that Jim deliberately tuned out before opening the file and starting to reading. He had to smile to himself as Blair, despite his protests, slowly became immersed in reading the case file. Jim could feel the other man begin to relax as he delved into the case and its outcome. The absence of nervous energy behind him let Jim focus a little more, as well, though he didn't let himself think too much on what that meant.

The following hour passed by much more swiftly and before Jim knew it a wrist watch was beeping somewhere down the hall prompting him to look at the clock. It read half past eleven and half a dozen empty desks confirmed the approaching lunch hour. Locking out his computer and dropping his files into a security drawer, Jim cleared his desk from the morning's work. He rummaged around in for the extra large bottle of aspirin he kept in his desk and swallowed down a few tablets before turning to Sandburg.

"C'mon," Jim said, giving Sandburg a light smack on his shoulder to get his attention, "We're going."

Sandburg turned and blinked at him in the same uncomprehending way as he looked at the case file. "Going?" he repeated, "With you?….To lunch?" he added.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes, pack up your things and don't make a scene," he said, taking the file he had given to Blair and depositing it with the rest in the security drawer before locking it and stuffing the keys into his pocket.

Standing, Jim grabbed his truck keys and headed for the elevators. The floor was half deserted now as most left for a much needed break. A few stayed behind, tapping away at keyboards and scribbling into files, but none of them gave notice as Sandburg eagerly hurried after Jim to the elevators.

"Where are we going?" Sandburg asked as soon as the doors closed, puppy like enthusiasm overshadowing the confusion from before.

Jim closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. He had a feeling he was going to regret this, that spending more time than necessary with Sandburg would only encourage unnecessary attachment on either or both of their parts when time came for them to part ways, but it was the best solution he could come up with. Sandburg was going to need to learn how to control himself a little more if they were going to get by under the radar and the sooner the better.

"We're going someplace quiet," he said, "We both need a break and I want to talk to you about a few things."

"What sort of things?" Sandburg's curiosity was almost bursting out of his skin.

Jim didn't answer, he just stared at the numbers ticking down to the parking garage, already regretting the decision.

"It must be your senses, right?" Sandburg continued, unaware of the silence Jim was responding with. "Have they been giving you trouble? You know stress can severely affect controlling and managing senses."

For a moment, Jim could only stare at him in surprise at the honest concern in the Guide's tone. "I can handle those," Jim said, looking back to the slowing numbers, "I've been doing it for some time now. I'll explain on the way."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, letting in the cooler air of the parking garage. Jim stepped out and headed straight for his truck, not checking whether Blair would follow or not. He didn't need to, the man was right at his heels, barely restrained questions at the tip of his tongue. There were a few others in the garage, standing around talking before heading out for lunch. No one seemed to notice them leaving together and Jim made sure to keep his expression on the just-aggravated side of blank. If anyone did take not that he was leaving with his Guide partner perhaps they would think he was doing it unwillingly and for police business. He had barely climbed into the truck cab and shut the door when the questions started anew.

"So we're going someplace quiet? Is this the same place you go to whenever you disappear for lunch? Do you go there to help you balance your senses?" Blair asked, putting things together before Jim could comment either way.

"Yes," Jim sighed, sounding world weary already though their field trip had only just begun. "It's one of the places I go to, but I don't expect to have to tell you that you are not to repeat of this to anyone, right? No matter how much back up research, theorizing, or venting you may want to do. Am I correct?" Jim's voice took on harder tone.

"Oh no, don't worry, Jim, I won't tell anyone any of this. I thought we already made that clear."

"Just wanted to be sure," Jim threw out a skeptical glance as he started the truck and pulled out of the lot. He paused as he pulled out into traffic and maneuvered through the lanes. "We're going someplace quiet so I can give you some advice about staying below the radar and drawing less attention."

"Oh," Blair said, a slightly disappointed tone creeping into his voice, "so this isn't about your senses. Are you sure this isn't about your senses? I thought I saw you wincing a few times this morning, so don't bother denying that they're not giving you some trouble."

"Well, I needed to get out of there, too," Jim admitted, "way too loud, but the main thing is to minimize any collateral damage from this Hedrick incident. _You_ need to learn to control yourself."

Blair snorted. "Oh that's rich," he said, recovering from his disappointment at not becoming privy to the inner-most secrets of a Sentinel in hiding, "The Sentinel telling the Guide he needs to learn self control."

"If the shoe fits," Jim replied, "From what I've seen so far, you've got next to no capacity for keeping secrets."

"I can keep secrets!" Blair said, voice rising in insult, "You have to keep confidentiality of any people you work with in anthropology, unless they agree to let their identities be revealed. Then there's always keeping research and projects quiet. You wouldn't believe how many academics out there will steal your work if given the chance."

Jim cut in with a wave of his hand before a full-blown rant on integrity and ethics in academia could begin. "I'm not talking about keeping information out of the public eye or quiet between friends. I'm talking about keeping it _secret_, to the point where no one else even realizes its out there, or if they do they think you don't know it and aren't involved." Jim pulled off the main roads and started heading into a rundown residential area.

"This is starting to feel like super spy stuff," Blair said, a hint of relish and trepidation battling in his voice.

"Oh please," Jim rolled his eyes, already feeling better from just getting away from the crowded department "my life is not a film noir or spy movie. Going overboard with this will attract just as much attention as spouting your mouth off to ever professor in the area." Jim pulled the truck to a stop and threw it into park before shutting it down.

"It was one guy, and I didn't even give him any details!" Blair countered, before finally taking note of where they were, "Uh, Jim? You sure this is the right place? I thought cops didn't really show their faces in this part of town."

"That's after dark, Sandburg, and the other end of the street." Jim unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. He paused in closing the door to look back at Blair.

The Guide hadn't moved to get out of the car yet, staring instead at the abandoned park with clear misgivings on his face. Jim really couldn't blame him. The park looked far from welcoming, overgrown with vines and tall grass, it was a testament to the forgotten neighborhood where it sat. He rarely saw people there, and when he did it was usually some bedraggled kid cutting through to get to the other side. Even the drug dealers seemed to have forgotten its existence, or perhaps the wholly natural appearance of the small area put them off as they preferred to conduct their business in the more urban areas of abandonment.

Either way, Jim found this park to be one of the most secluded and peaceful within driving distance and probably his favorite. The vegetation had all over grown, leaving broad, if slightly stunted trees, thick vines and bushes, and tall grass. An old swing set and slide sat in the center of the area, rusted and mostly broken from years of no use or upkeep. The quiet neighborhood and thick over growth conspired to insulate the small area from what little traffic and noise did wind its way through from the center of Cascade. For Jim, the small, rundown compound was like a oasis and he always felt better after taking a lunch break here to even out his senses, though he couldn't come too often for fear of someone noticing.

Jim glanced back at Sandburg who still hadn't gotten out of the truck. "You're wasting our lunch break," he said before locking and closing his door with a dull thump.

Sandburg shrugged and followed suit, getting out of the truck and locking his door. Jim led the way through an old gate, propped open and fixed in place by vines, rust, and dirt. As they passed through, Jim pointed out one particularly dark green vine saying, "Don't touch that, it's poison ivy."

"I know what poison ivy looks like," Blair grumbled from behind him, though he moved to avoid brushing against the reaching vine. "I do go out in the woods, you know."

"Really," Jim said with a little surprise, "I thought you academics liked to burry yourselves under books and papers in some dusty library or office."

"That's theorists," Blair corrected, "If you want to excel at anthropology, you usually have to do extensive field work, go out, live with the natives, get to know their environments. Plus, I do a lot of camping"

"Huh," Jim said, mostly to himself, not bothering to hide the surprise he felt. He wouldn't have pictured Sandburg as the outdoorsy type, but he put the information aside abruptly returning to their former topic. "It doesn't matter if you only told one guy, it doesn't even matter that you didn't give him any details. It's the fact that you told someone who you're not absolutely sure of and _without_ consulting me."

Sandburg tried to break in with a protest, but Jim cut him off with a raised hand.

"I know the first time you talked to him was before you started blackmailing me."

"Before we came to an understanding," Sandburg corrected with an eye roll.

"Whatever you want to call it," Jim continued with a slightly raised voice, "You should have told me right away about talking to this doctor if for no other reason than to give me a heads up of who might know."

"I told you," Sandburg said, "I didn't give him any specifics. I told him it was just background research for a theory."

Jim shook his head, Sandburg still wasn't getting it. "I don't care that you didn't give him any details. People don't need every bit of information to start filling in the holes and making conclusions on their own. Sometimes being deliberately vague can even cause more suspicion, not less. It makes you look like you've got something to hide."

Jim couldn't help the slightly lecturing tone he took on as he spoke, his frustration bubbling to the surface again and threatening to turn to anger. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "You have to get your emotions under control. Get your head screwed on straight. I don't care if the world is falling apart around your ears, you still put on the act that everything is fine. Then, the next time this Dr. Hedrick shows up for a chat find a way to put him off the trail. Have a nice long talk with him, work into his beliefs about Sentinels not being able to survive on their own. He's already got the belief in place. It's easier to convince people of something they partially believe anyway so it shouldn't be too hard. Then, while you're at it, make sure you have a good excuse for why you're not living wherever you lived before you invaded my house. Say they're fumigating, a sick friend, something as to why you would leave for several weeks. Make up a friend that no one else knows and say you're crashing with them. Don't say a hotel. That's too easy to check up on."

"You're sounding paranoid." Sandburg grumbled as he dropped down on a stained and pot-marked stone bench.

"You're not paranoid if they're really after you," Jim countered the bulk of his temper and frustration running out of steam, "and I think that point was proven by the poor bastard who got caught a few days ago. This may not mean that much to you, but I have my freedom on the line and I'm not going to be exposed because some nosy academic didn't know how to play James Bond for a few weeks. Besides, I'd like to switch places with you and see how you feel about the whole thing."

"Fine, fine," Blair threw up his hands, "I'll just pretend I'm dodging the bill collectors again, like in my freshman and sophomore years of college."

"That would definitely be a step up from your performance now," Jim agreed, nodding. He looked down at his watch and grimaced as he realized they only had half an hour left. "Ok, so go over to your side and work on calming your nerves down, I'm not going to bring you back to the office unless you can prove you're going to act in a normal manner."

"Well, what are you doing?" Sandburg asked, clearly annoyed at being treated like a child.

Jim glared at him, "I'm going to go to my side and get my senses under control for the rest of the day. And no, you can't help," he cut Blair off before the other man could do more than open his mouth.

Jim moved off without another word, determined to make his senses even out in the remaining half an hour before he became just as much of a liability as he was accusing Blair of being. The whole process took much less time than it normally did, though Jim refused to acknowledge the help he'd found in Sandburg's steadying heart beat across the park or the annoying deep purr that appeared just before they left. By the time they headed back to the office with a quick stop for takeout, both men were much better prepared to handle the rest of the day.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

A week went by and Blair had to admit it wasn't as bad as he feared it would be; the second week went even better. In fact, he would say that it was going quite well. Jim had been suspicious of his capability to get himself under control and watched him like a hawk the first few days, but days passed and still there was no word from Dr. Hedrick or any of Jim's fellow detectives. Blair liked to think it was his superior acting skills to pretend nothing had happened, but he had a feeling Jim's distracting him with case files had helped a lot.

Jim seemed to realize very quickly after that first file how handy it was having a second pair of eyes to look over his work. He dropped files into Blair's lap faster than Blair could go through them. At first, it was just proofing for grammatical and spelling errors of finished reports before filing them away, but it quickly evolved as Blair found he couldn't keep his nose out of the still active reports. He just couldn't go back to sitting there watching people do paper work. In all honesty, observing police detectives wasn't turning out to be quite as exciting as he thought it would be. Except for the one time he left the office and trying to figure Jim out, it was mainly paper work. Though, he probably should have seen that coming.

Picking one up after finishing the closed cases, Blair quickly scanned through the report while Jim was preoccupied glancing under his desk. Jim had been doing that a lot in the past couple of days muttering under his breath about over-grown house cats. Blair didn't know what the man was talking about, but decided to leave it for the moment. He didn't want to antagonize the man too much and looking through files he shouldn't be was enough for one day.

Blair glanced through the file, quickly getting his bearings in the increasingly familiar format. As he read through the case he didn't notice Jim straighten and glance over at him.

"That one's not finished," Jim said, moving to take the folder back as Blair moved it out of the way.

"I know. I'm just checking it over," Blair said as Jim rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk. Encouraged by still having possession of the file, Blair continued on, "Did you check into the other motives on this than just the three hundred bucks stolen?"

Jim stilled a moment before slowly turning in his chair to face Blair. "Why would say that, Chief?" he asked a distinct note of sarcasm in his tone, leaning back with his arms crossed, a masked expression on his face.

The pose didn't seem very inviting to Blair, but he continued on anyway. "The house had several dead bolts on the door, bars on the lower story windows, and a pretty mean dog in the yard. Doesn't that seem like a little much for your average home security?"

"It's one of the poor areas of town," Jim countered, "robberies in that neighborhood are common. Half the houses on the street have bars on their first story windows."

Blair shrugged looking back down into the folder with a frown. "It just seems like an awful lot of trouble robbing this guy's house for a lousy three hundred bucks. There could be other motives involved, revenge or maybe the guy had more than the money in his house."

Jim stared at him for several minutes before reaching behind and picking up another active case file. "What do you think of that one?" he asked as he dropped it in Blair's lap.

Blair stared at it a moment before looking back to Jim. "Isn't this policing?" he asked, sarcasm appearing in his own voice.

"No, this is 'consulting,'" Jim said before turning back to his desk. "You're not allowed to do policing. When you're done with that one feel free to move to the others and make note of anything out of place you might notice."

"So you're giving it a fancy name and letting me do it anyway?" Blair asked, slightly disgusted with duplicity of it as he eyed the stack of open case folders on Jim's desk.

"That's the name of the game, Chief. Don't complain, you finally got what you wanted, a real life look into the live of police detectives."

"Not sure I want it anymore," Blair mumbled as he cracked open another, thicker file.

After that, Jim didn't seem to mind Blair looking through the files. In fact, as soon as Blair finished one file he found another dropped in his place.

"I'm not your personal secretary, you know," Blair grumbled after returning from a break to find another stack of folders in his seat.

"You know that phrase about being careful about what you wish for?" Jim answered and small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Most of this is back work I didn't get through because I was avoiding _you_, so it's partly your fault anyway."

"_That's _great logic," Blair said under his breath.

"I heard that."

"Good."

Still, Blair couldn't deny that things were looking better. Jim was warming up, though he still wouldn't let Blair help with his senses. He stopped fighting Blair coming with him on lunch breaks and throwing him frustrated glances after hours at the apartment. A true testament to Jim improving attitude to the whole arrangement was his willingness to let Blair out of his sight and go back to the apartment on his own to work on his study and dinner.

Spare key tucked safely in his pocket and back pack slung over his shoulder, Blair adjusted his grip on the bus hand rail as he bumped his way back to the loft. He couldn't help but smile as Jim's last comment ran through his head again. "None of that hippie grass you brought for lunch that first week." At the beginning of the week Jim wouldn't even let him stand in the living room of the loft without strict supervision. Now, almost two weeks later Jim was letting him go back to cook dinner on his own, without worrying that Blair would look through his stuff or divert to some Center office and spill his guts about the secret life of Sentinels in hiding. The thought was warming and more than a little encouraging.

Perhaps, Blair thought as he exited the bus and turned the corner for their building, he was getting through the impossibly thick barriers Jim had built around himself. The more he got to know Jim and the more he saw how well Jim managed his senses, the more Blair was beginning to think the balance between Guides and Sentinels was unhealthily tilted. True, there were some areas that Jim needed help with, even if he didn't want to admit it, but Blair could see that with the right training a Sentinel didn't need to be so completely dependent on their Guide as was generally accepted. Blair's own training and the training from the Center had focused heavily on the importance of a Sentinel having a Guide as a matter of course. Still, here was evidence that the role of a Guide was more for the bigger challenges rather than the daily annoyances.

Opening the door and starting up the stairs, the smile dropped into a thoughtful frown as Blair reconsidered the subject to himself. He had partly wished to convince Jim that he was better off getting a Guide and he still thought that was largely true. Jim needed a Guide, but only for the occasions like that the hostage situation or for more intense crime scenes. The more he saw how Jim had coped the more he realized how detrimental having too controlling a Guide could be. Without pushing himself and opening himself to potentially harmful situations, Jim would never have developed the control he had. A guide's tendency was always to protect their Sentinel, to steer them from harmful and uncomfortable situations. Now it seemed more than likely that instead of helping their Sentinels, Guides as a group were making their Sentinels over-dependent and over-sensitive.

The thought was a disturbing one and only led to even more frightening thoughts. It made Blair stop on the landing as he went over the train to its logical conclusion. One of the more supported theories of the drop in Sentinels was that they weren't able to handle the multitude of chemicals in modern society and were therefore dying sooner. If Guides were essentially training their Sentinels to be more sensitive, or in plain words weaker, then they were essentially helping cause the premature deaths of their own Sentinels. Looked at the blunt way, they were killing the Sentinels.

It was not a thought Blair enjoyed entertaining. The irony that it was the controlling ways of Guides and Society at large that was destroying Sentinels, either weakening their resistance or driving them into hiding was not lost on Blair. He bit back a bitter laugh as he resumed his climb up the stairs. What Guides needed to do to fix the problem was exactly what their title said, _guide _not control. It would be a difficult thing to convince everyone else of that, though. He didn't have any evidence to back it up. Proving it would mean studies over years to show the connection and was assuming anyone would agree to participate.

Still, Blair couldn't see the situation continuing for much longer. Things had to change before they deteriorated completely. He didn't know how, but he resolved that somehow he'd find a way to bring the problem to light _without _endangering Jim. It would be tricky, taking time and tact, and he would have to talk about it to Jim before he did anything. He wasn't even sure how to start but he'd find a way.

Resolution made, Blair ran up the last few steps. Pulling out the key and thinking about dinner, it wasn't until he had the door open that he realized he wasn't alone.

"Hello Blair," the voice was instantly recognizable, but Blair refused to believe it until he turned and came face to face with Dr. Hedrick.

TBC

Well, there it is. You guys have been waiting long enough. This is the beginning of the end. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and it was worth the wait. Let me know what you think and send me any comments or criticism you have, I love to hear feed back.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Well, it's not quite as long a wait as I have put you through in the past, though the chapter isn't as long as normal either. I'm hoping you like it though. A huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. I would have stopped writing it a long time ago if not for you all.

As always, I don't own it. Any mistakes or problems are my own.

Chapter 13

Blair turned slowly, wishing with the depths of his heart that he had imagined the voice he just heard, but no. There, sitting casually on the stairs as though he was visiting an old and good friend was Dr. Hedrick. Blair couldn't seem to find words to speak as he struggled to understand just what the man was doing there.

Dr. Hedrick didn't seem uncomfortable at all in Blair's silence, instead continued on like it was another chat within the halls of the college. "Fancy finding you here. I knew you had been spending more time with the detective, but I hadn't realized exactly how much until just now."

"What are you doing here?" Blair managed to blurt out. He almost flinched at the shock in his voice, the utter bafflement of what to do with this unforeseen circumstance. Jim had told him to keep his head in situations like this, told him how far bluffing your way through an unfavorable situation could save you when no salvation seemed possible. He desperately tried to rally the carefully built façade he'd developed to throw others off the track, though this time he wasn't so sure if it would work, not with this man.

"Oh, I came to talk to Detective Ellison, but he doesn't appear to be home," Hedrick said, standing up and sliding his hands into his pants pockets.

"He had some work to finish up," Blair said, "I'll let him know you dropped by." _Oh boy, will I let him know_.

"I don't mind waiting," Hedrick said in a reassuring tone as he side stepped Blair and moved through the open door before Blair could stop him. "I don't have anything else planned for tonight so my time is free to wait on the Detective. I am quite anxious to speak with him."

"You could always use the phone," Blair muttered, not really intending to be heard as he shut the door behind them. He had to find a way to make Hedrick leave before Jim got back.

"Something's need to be discussed in person," Hedrick replied amiably. He strolled around the living room taking in the decorations and space with interest. Blair noticed how his eyes lingered on the heavy drapes that framed the windows.

Making a quick sweep of the room, Blair was thankful to see Jim had hidden away all of the white-noise generators. At first, he hadn't understood Jim's need to hide things even in his own home, but now he was thankful for Jim's foresight. No doubt, the man had been planning for a situation exactly like this. Turning back to the doctor, he tried to go over everything Jim had said he should do when he met Hedrick next. He'd gotten used to covering up at the police station, but those men weren't looking for anything and it was always easier to hide something that no one was looking for. Dr. Hedrick, Blair could tell from the man's close scrutiny of the apartment, was looking for something, something Blair had inadvertently tipped him off to. That, plus the man's sudden appearance here of all places, had Blair very badly off balance.

Blair took a silent deep breath to steal himself before starting. He could either end this now or blow it completely. "What do you need to talk to Jim about?" he asked as casually as possible, acting as though nothing was wrong.

Hedrick turned to regard him for a moment, as if debating something himself. "I suppose there's no reason why you shouldn't know," he said as he seemed to come to a decision, "I've been looking into that theory you had earlier. It occurred to me that you might have found someone at the police station who fit the bill and let's face it Blair, you have been spending quite a bit of time with Detective Ellison."

"He's my liaison," Blair said with a roll of his eyes, "Of course I have to spend time with him. That's the point of a liaison."

"According to Captain Banks, you asked for him specifically. Why is that?" the doctor came back quickly. His voice was still amiable but there was a sharpness to it that wasn't there before

"We met in the elevator on the way up," Blair answered honestly, suddenly feeling as though he were being interrogated. He needed to turn the conversation around. "Jim's pretty grumpy whenever he gets off of work and you should have seen the office today, nothing but one thing after another. He's still finishing up paper work and might be at it for another couple of hours. Plus, I'm sure he wouldn't like people he doesn't know in his home, cop paranoia or something along those lines. It would be better if you just came back sometime when he was actually home. Or we could go see him at the office right, now, even."

Dr. Hedrick wasn't listening though. He'd turned back to the curtains and was examining them much closer. He flicked them out and watched the dark shadows they cast on the floor. From the curtains, he turned to the cabinet and before Blair could say another word had the door open and was peering into the contents. Blair scowled at the blatant invasion in privacy, pushing back the memory of his own snooping a couple of weeks previous. The situation had been completely different, after all, Blair said to himself.

Clearly, politeness and distraction were not working. Blair stepped up to the cabinet and snapped the door shut, almost clipping the doctor's nose with the sudden movement. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to make himself look as intimidating as possible, though somehow he felt the effect was not as impressive as when Jim did it.

"Is there a reason why you're searching Jim's private home?" Blair asked with righteous indignation.

"He's a Sentinel, isn't he?" Hedrick said, a gleam of triumph in his eye, "That's why you requested him as a liaison. You could tell there was something different about him."  
Blair stiffened at the sudden direction of the conversation, the doctor's accusation making his thought processes skip for a moment. He schooled his features, hopeful he hadn't let anything show, and went back to Jim's advice in his head. The man wouldn't believe an outright lie at this point so Blair figured a half- lie would be the safest course.

"I thought when I first met Jim that he might have some repressed abilities, but it wasn't long before I realized he is not a Sentinel," Blair said, sounding as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. The doctor looked at him with flat, unbelieving eyes that flicked back to the cabinet behind Blair. Realizing what Hedrick had seen Blair continued on in an exasperated tone, "Jim has sensitive hearing. Not up to Sentinel standards, but strong enough to give him an edge in the field and also give him bad migraines." After a brief pause, Blair decided to throw in for good measure, "I'm working on a new theory, saying Sentinel abilities are becoming increasingly spread out over the population. People are getting one or two of the senses, but not all five, hence our difficulty in finding full blown Sentinels because there aren't any more. They're getting spread among regular people, so to speak."

Blair forced his shoulders to relax, willing himself to look confident and assured in the lie he'd just fed the doctor. Hedrick for his part seemed to be considering the idea. He didn't look convinced, but there was a shadow of doubt in the man's eyes and doubt was what Blair needed. Just a little bit of doubt could grow and blossom into disbelief and that was Blair's goal. It was like what Jim had said, he didn't need to convince the man right here and now, he just needed to nudge him in the right direction.

"I suppose it's possible," the doctor grudgingly agreed. He turned and paced a few steps away. "I don't believe it, but it is possible. He should still come down to the Center and get the tests. It's the best way to know for sure."

"I already gave him a test," Blair said with an exaggerated sigh, "Going down to the Center would be a waste of time."

"Nonsense, it's standard procedure. Unless," Hedrick paused, turning to Blair again. "You're covering for him, helping him hide. It wouldn't be that surprising, there's a very long waiting list for Guides without a Sentinel. Now you have one all to yourself."

Blair threw his hands in the air, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The doctor was skating far too close to the truth for comfort and Blair hoped he was putting on an award winning performance to deter him. A loud cough interrupted any further comment Blair could give and the two turned to find Jim standing in the doorway, a dark, stormy expression on his face. Blair let out a breath of relief while at the same time feeling his heart sink with dread at Jim finding them in his apartment. Jim would know how to handle the situation better, but Blair didn't even want to think on how it all looked.

Rallying his nerve, Blair stepped forward. "Jim," he said with a strained smile. He cleared his throat before continuing, hoping to head off any unfortunate misunderstandings. "This is Doctor Hedrick. He stopped by _unexpectedly _just now."

Jim's eyes shifted to the doctor and nodded almost imperceptively. His steady gaze was hardly friendly but there hadn't been any decapitation just yet. Blair took that as a good sign and quickly pressed on.

"The doctor here thought there was a chance that you could be a Sentinel," Blair tried to laugh at the ridiculous notion, it came out more nervous than anything else, "but I explained how only your hearing is above normal."

Blair's eyes flicked over to the doctor, hoping his tone was reasonable enough to give the impression that this was normal while also getting the message across to Jim. The frosty glare on Jim's face said he got the message but that he didn't like it one bit. Jim finally stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him though he didn't run through the usual ritual of putting away his keys, jacket, and weapon.

"Yes, Blair was just explaining to me a theory he has about handing down single senses rather than the whole set," Hedrick said casually, if he noticed the tension in the room he didn't let on as he placed both his hands into his pockets again. "Tell me, what do you think about the whole thing, Detective Ellison?"

Blair held his breath before forcing himself to exhale normally, feeling the stress of the situation at hand. Hopefully, Jim had overheard most of their conversation and would be able to reply as though he and Blair had spoken on the subject before. Jim regarded the doctor with the same cold scowl he gave to most people, something Blair realized he hadn't received in a while. The thought warmed his heart, but he didn't have time to dwell on the matter as he studied the two other men in the room.

Looking again at Jim, Blair was relieved to see the detective ability to control his emotions so well. The man was cold and stiff and scowling, but he was always that way. He had a reputation for being that way on normal days so any tension he now felt could be easily hidden in his normal demeanor. If Blair hadn't known better he would have thought Jim was nothing more than annoyed, perhaps a little angry, at finding an intrusive stranger in his house, but Blair could feel the anger, anxiety, and fear rolling off the man. More than that, Blair knew Jim on a personal level now. He knew even without picking up Jim's emotions that the man's mind was spinning at a million thoughts per second, analyzing the situation, the best approach to take, the dangers and risks with each course of action.

"In all honesty, doctor," Jim said in a measured and deliberate tone void of any emotion, "I've never had much interest in the subject. In fact, I distinctly remember telling Sandburg off for distracting me with his academic rambling."

"That's too bad. It's actually quite interesting, though I don't believe a word of it. You see he's attempting to explain away your exceptional hearing as a single trait passed down in lieu of an entire set of Senses. He suggests that this might be the cause for the sudden drop in Sentinels in the past two decades."

Jim's eyes shifted over to Blair for a moment before turning back to the doctor.

Hedrick strolled back to the thick curtains that hung over the windows, half drawn to block out the late afternoon light. He fingered the edge, testing the thickness between his fingers as he spoke. "In my professional opinion, though, I find it highly unlikely that a person would receive only one sense elevated to the level suggested by your white noise generators so carefully hidden in that cupboard. I would suggest that only one sense has truly surfaced, and the others are still dormant. That…or you are actively trying to hide your abilities," Hedrick stared at Jim, his eyes intense and accusing.

"Doctor," Blair admonished with a roll of his eyes, "I doubt Detective Ellison would actively hide abilities that could help the department. Look at his record! He's given more time to the department than anyone else there. It's clear where his priorities lay."

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe a Guide whom appears to have been helping this man hide at least one heightened sense," Hedrick's tone remained polite, though the words had taken a distinctly snide turn. He turned toward Blair, completely disregarding Jim's presence and continued emphatically, "This man owes it to society to employ his abilities to help others and in return society owes it to him to protect him from the dangers he is vulnerable to because of those abilities."

Blair could see Jim's expression pinch at being spoken about as though he weren't there; he probably would have stiffened even further if his body hadn't already been as tense as tension wire.

"There's no law that says a Sentinel has to reveal himself," Blair argued back not sure if he wanted to waste everyone's time arguing about the philosophy of the subject with a man who had already made up his mind.

Hedrick dismissed the fact with a wave of his hand, "There is no _written_ law, not yet, at least. That will change soon enough when people realize that potentially there are Sentinels hiding themselves among normal people. Think of the risk they're putting themselves to without proper help, and the many public services and professions that need Sentinels but don't have them. When people find out the legislation will go through that much quicker." Hedrick finally looked back to Jim, though clearly still talking to Blair, "But that's a mute point at the moment, we can clear up our disagreement with a simple test down at the Center."

"I think I'll pass," Jim said, a growl underlying his words and his hands clenched into fists, "I've got far more important things to do with my time than come down to your Center and waste my afternoon on a test."

The doctor shook his head as he moved away from the two, "Nonsense, I'm sure we could fit you in for the exams right now. It's after official hours but there's always staff available for emergencies or these types of situations."

Hedrick turned to the phone placed on one end of the counter. Blair shot Jim a panicked look as the doctor lifted the receiver. Jim held up a hand, stopping any protests from spilling out of Blair mouth. In one smooth motion, Jim drew his handgun, stepped up behind Hedrick and clocked the doctor hard across the head. Blair stood in complete shock as Doctor Hedrick crashed to the ground, taking the phone and a bowl of fruit with him. Apples rolled across the floor, bumping over the tile with muted thuds. Jim calmly stepped over the body, lifted the phone and replaced it on the cradle, silencing the dial tone in the otherwise quiet apartment.

It took several minutes for Blair to get over the shock of what had just happened, and even then it was Jim's resigned, "Well, I guess that's that," which fully snapped Blair back to the present. He looked up from the unconscious body, but Jim was already on the stairs and disappearing into his room.

"Jim?" Blair said, glancing one last time at Hedrick before he moved to follow. "What do you mean, 'that's that'? Do you have any idea what you've just done?" He ran up the stairs stopping in the doorway at the sight of Jim packing. "What are you doing?" he demanded, strain making his voice strident as he tried to keep up with events spiraling out of control.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Jim snapped, stuffing some shirts into a duffle, "It's over, I'm out."

Blair shook his head, stubbornly refusing to believe what has happening. "It's not over. We can still work this out. Yeah, it'll be more complicated that you _assaulted_ Hedrick, but…but we can tell him he tripped or something."

Jim shot him a disbelieving look and continued packing. Angrily, Blair stormed farther into the room blocking Jim from his bag. "I'm sure he won't remember how it actually happened. Then, you can fake the test, fail it on purpose-"

"You _can't fake _those tests, Blair," Jim almost yelled, staring Blair down as the path to his duffle was blocked, he continued in earnest, "You know you can't fake them. If I go in there to take any test I won't be coming out again." He side stepped around Blair and pulled the bag closer, stuffing in some pants.

"We can talk to Hedrick, explain-" Blair said, more out of desperation than anything else.

Jim paused a moment to ask, "Do you really think that will work?" He turned back to the half packed bag, "I've met people like him before. He's not going to let this go and he's not going to forget it."

Blair got angry then, well and truly angry. After weeks of getting to know Jim, slowly earning the man's trust, watching and helping him hide, he'd seen another side, another way to do things. Sentinels didn't have to be frail and vulnerable to the outside world. There was a healthier, stronger partnership available between Sentinels and Guides if they only changed their approach. He was convinced they could improve the way things were, he wasn't sure how but it was worth the try. Now, that opportunity was crumbling before his very eyes.

"So you're just going to give up," Blair said, throwing his hands up as he fumed, "After everything you told me about not flinching and bluffing your way through a bad situation; everything you've gone through to stay on the force, help people, build a life for yourself…one bump in the road and you're just throwing it all away and running." Blair was yelling by the end of his rant, his breath coming out harsh and fast as anger came to the surface.

Jim growled. He didn't look at Blair, but retrieved more supplies from his wardrobe, "If you're going to bluff you have to know when your bluff's been called and it's time to throw in your cards. That comes with any situation like this. Sometimes, the only thing left to do is a tactical retreat, _not_ running away."

"Why can't we just tell everyone?" Blair offered, trying to think of any solution to their current problem before Jim had a chance to disappear for good, "When people know how many Sentinels feel this way, when they know about how Sentinels get treated…" He trailed off, thinking of what Hedrick had said.

Jim echoed his thoughts out loud, "You're asking me to be the sacrificial lamb, Sandburg, and I'm not going to do that. Things don't change overnight and I'm not willing to give up the rest of my life on a public awareness stunt that probably won't work."

Blair growled in frustration as he paced across the room, kicking at an article of clothing that had been dropped on the floor. "This isn't fair! You shouldn't have to do this!"

Everything had been going so well and now, in less than an hour, it was all ruined. Jim was going to leave, possibly forever, and Blair would be left behind to deal with the fall out. Hedrick would almost certainly piece it all together and they'd start actively looking for Sentinels in hiding. He didn't know exactly how it would all play out, but Blair could definitely say it was only going to go downhill.

Still, thing that struck him the most was the thought of never seeing Jim again. Despite his best efforts and Jim's constant reminders and attempts to keep Blair at arm's length, Blair had grown very attached to Jim. He could read Jim better than any other Sentinel he'd ever met and he honestly enjoyed being around the man, even with the temper and harsh attitude sometimes. Looking past the rough exterior, Jim wasn't nearly as cold as he portrayed himself to be and the past two weeks Jim had finally been opening up, albeit slowly. Blair couldn't bear for it all to end so soon.

"Sometimes life isn't fair, Chief," Jim said zipping his bag close. His voice was heavier than Blair had ever heard it and suddenly Blair saw what it might be like for Jim. To work so hard and then have it all crash down for nothing.

Blair made his decision in that moment, nodding to himself, he said, "I'm coming with you."

"What?" Jim asked, turning to look at him with an astonished face.

"I'm coming with you," Blair repeated, raising his chin in determination, "You shouldn't have to do this alone. I'm not going to let you do it alone."

Jim let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes and looking tired like Blair hadn't seen before. "Look, Chief… you're a good man. You've had the chance to see both sides of the fence and now you have a chance to do some good in this mess. You're in the system; you can change things for the better. I'm not going to let you ruin that chance by following me off to who-knows-where. I appreciate it, I really do. I appreciate the effort you made for me down there and I think I would even…enjoy having you along, but you can't come with me."

Jim paused a moment, looking as if he wanted to say more but could bring himself to. Blair was surprised he'd gotten that much out, considering how reticent Jim could be about sharing his emotions. Jim avoided Blair's eyes the entire time, focusing instead on a point over Blair's shoulder or on the floor between them. The speech only strengthened Blair's resolve, though. He wouldn't let Jim go through this alone.

"I don't care what you say about it, I'm coming," Blair said with a shake of his head. He turned and headed back toward the staircase, "I'll just put some clothes in my backpack. Don't try to sneak out without me, I'll know."

Blair was only half way to the door when he heard Jim say in apology, "I'm sorry," and felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull. There was a rush of gravity and then nothing.

SSSSSSS

A/N Hope you liked it! A little shorter than normal, but it was a good point to cut off. Reviews and feedback are always welcome and guilt me into writing faster, especially late reviews.


	14. Chapter 14

I'm back from NANO and I have a new chapter for you. I hope you all like it and it was worth the wait since September. But on the bright side I finished my NANO novel at just over 61K! It's the first time I've been able to finish the novel I was working on. Hopefully I'll be able to drag that skill over to my other writing projects.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorite, or alerted this story. You guys are the reason I'm going to finish this. :)

I don't own the Sentinel. This chapter is also unbeta-ed so any and all mistakes are my own. (I got a little impatient about uploading it, so there's probably several.)

Chapter 14

Jim ensured the door was locked when he left, not that there was much point now, but long standing habit and the principle of the matter ensured the lock was turned and the door firmly shut. Plus, he didn't want anyone wandering in while Blair was still unconscious and vulnerable. True, Hedrick hadn't gotten his call out so there was no reason to expect anyone else of coming over, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He turned from the door to make his way back to the car, but couldn't move forward due to the large panther sitting in the way of the stairwell.

Jim felt his blood chill a little as the panther stared at him. It did not look happy, in fact, it looked fairly angry and just a little disappointed. Jim shook his head at assigning so many human emotions to an animal, spirit or no.

"It's not going to work out," Jim said almost too low to hear, "This is the best option at this moment."

The panther growled a little.

"It's not that I don't like him, I do, but I don't know him enough to risk spending the rest of my life in a home or on a leash. Besides this will be safer for him anyway, now they can't accuse him of helping me."

The panther snorted and continued its accusing stare.

Jim opened his mouth again when he realized that not only was he assigning human feelings to the cat, he was also arguing with it, when he had very little time to spare in the first place.

"If you don't like it, you can stare here," Jim said, stepping over the cat with caution and hurrying down the stair case.

Jim took the stairs two at a time, gauging how far he could get before Blair would probably wake up. He hadn't hit Blair nearly as hard as he hit the doctor so Blair could be coming round at any moment. What Blair did after he woke was another matter, but Jim was willing to bet that the Guide wouldn't call the authorities in on him. He might follow, him, though, if Blair knew where to go. Jim grunted to himself as he pulled open the door to him truck and threw his bags in. Blair would definitely follow him.

The doctor, on the other hand, would probably call in reinforcements, which meant Jim would have to get rid of his truck at some point. Legally the man was in the wrong. Jim knew he hadn't broken any written laws. He was perfectly within his legal rights to withhold his abilities from the public, but sometimes it wasn't just about written laws. Jim knew this from years of working in the legal system not mention his time in the military. People got away with things they legally couldn't do all the time and Jim could tell when the cards were stacked against him even if the law was technically on his side. He threw his bag in the passenger foot well before climbing in behind the driver's seat.

Jim turned on the truck but hesitated at putting it into gear. Blair was right about at least one thing, leaving now would be throwing away all of his hard work, not just his career but his home as well. Everything he'd done and been through would be in vain. His frustration boiled up until he couldn't contain it anymore. He hit the steering wheel with his open hand yelling a curse.

Like Blair said, it _wasn't _fair that Jim was the one running. Hedrick was the one who should be in trouble. Jim was sure he could think up half a dozen charges to file against the doctor, starting with breaking and entering. In theory the law _should _have been on Jim's side but the doctor was right that it was teetering. Jim wasn't sure if this push would make everything better or that much worse and he wasn't ready to take that risk. There were too many other people out there in his exact same situation; Sentinels who were in hiding and living their own lives without the restrictive grip of the Center around their throats. If Jim went to the authorities, told what was happening, revealed what he was, he could very well open all other Sentinels to the danger of exposure. If the Center pressed the matter and won public opinion that it was safer for Sentinels and better for society if they were rooted out and brought in then it wouldn't be just him losing his freedom, but every other Sentinel that was found as a result.

Jim briefly thought that Blair would probably say something about him protecting his tribe through his actions, but he couldn't deny that he did feel protective of the other Sentinels out there, if for no other reason than he knew what they were going through.

Decision made, Jim moved to throw the truck into gear only to stop yet again as he spotted the wolf sitting out in the middle of the parking lot. Turning back to the steering wheel, Jim steeled himself and backed the truck up and pulled out into the street. He'd barely left the lot when he caught a gray colored movement in the passenger seat by the corner of his eye. Jim didn't need to look to know the wolf was sitting casually in the seat staring at his every move. He ignored it though; half thinking it was worth the try.

Jim pulled out onto the highway, eyes focused on the road ahead of him and not at the unwanted passenger whining in the seat next to him. He hoped, despite his previous experiences, that if he ignored the wolf the thing would just give up and leave him alone. If it was anything like the house cat, though, he was going to be stuck with his stowaway for the foreseeable future.

Still, Jim couldn't help letting his eyes slide over to bring the mutt further into his periphery. The wolf noticed, ears perking up from their relaxed position and a high pitched whine renewed in vigor. Jim snapped back to the road even as the mutt shifted around and stuck a wet nose on Jim's arm. Jim couldn't decide if this was worse or better than the cat. The panther was quiet but intense and infinitely patient. It fixed its penetrating gaze and stared, unwavering and unblinking until it felt its message had been received. This mutt, however, was annoying. It didn't have the patience of the cat, seemed a little younger in all honesty, but the slightest move on indication you knew it was there set off the high pitched whine again. And it stared up at you with big blue eyes like you were the most horrible creature in the world for ignoring it.

Jim had to admit, he missed the house cat but if the fur ball had been there it would have had him talking before he'd left the city limits, maybe even have had him turned around and heading back. Now, he was in the suburbs and heading steadily away. It'd been half an hour and he was still holding out, something he was actually quite proud of. Of course, the cat knew him much better, knew what buttons to push and when. This puppy might just be inexperienced.

Unthinkingly glancing down at the wolf, Jim grimaced as the action set off a whole new round of pitiful whining.

"Oh shut up," Jim finally said with a roll of his eyes, "It's not like you're being murdered. You didn't have to be here; you wanted to come along."

The wolf sat up straighter in the seat and looked pointedly behind them before turning to stare at Jim.

"We're not going back," Jim said in a firm voice, "You can if you want to, teleport of whatever it is you do, but I'm done. I can't go back even if I wanted to. Hedrick'll put me in a glass cage."

The wolf snorted and shook his head.

Jim shook his own head in return. "Blair'll be having his own troubles keeping his Guide certification if they figure out he's been covering for me. Hopefully, he'll have sense enough to keep his mouth shut. They'll claim mal-practice or whatever they call it on him. He won't be able to help and even if he can help. The best that would happen would be they'd make him my Guide officially and I don't want a guide."

Jim huffed to himself, frustrated that the mutt had gotten him talking. In truth, if he had to have a Guide he would have picked Sandburg. The man was competent and knew what he was doing and he wasn't completely annoying to be around even if he did have his moments. They worked well together when all was said and done, but it all was a moot point when taking in the fact that he did not want a Guide. Besides, with his luck the Center would assign him a different Guide, one that was supposed to keep him in line and keep him and Sandburg completely separated. That was the way the Center worked, after all.

The mutt whined again, shoving a cold, wet nose into Jim's ear.

"Mmf!" Jim grunted in surprise, jerking the wheel at the unpleasant feeling. "That's enough!" he said, pushing the muzzle out of his ear and away from him. "I don't _care _if you don't like it! Neither do I! But there are some things that you can't change in life."

The dog let out a half heart growl before whining again and looking up at him with huge eyes. Jim sighed, feeling more depressed than anything at the moment. The gas light suddenly blinked on, distracting his eyes with the bright red light. Next to it, the gauge read empty almost completely down to the capitol E. he couldn't remember if he had filled up recently, but he didn't usually let it get so far down. He threw a sidelong glance at the wolf sitting next to him. Up ahead, there was a sign for a gas station coming up on the next right. Jim frowned at the coincidence but threw his signal on and moved over to the right.

"If you've had anything to do with this you're staying here," Jim growled as he pulled into the sparsely populated gas station. He'd get gas and then be on the road again in no time.

Still, no matter how much he tried to reassure himself he could throw off the feeling that the wolf had something to do with, and probably that blasted panther as well. He knew he was probably being paranoid, but something told him things weren't going to work out the way he'd planned.

SSSSSSS

Blair woke up to a twelve piece band playing in his head and the strange sensation that someone was licking his face. He groaned and pried his eyes open to find two ice blue eyes staring back at him. For a moment, he couldn't decide whether he was dreaming or not as he stared at the black panther crouched down in front of his face. Besides that, he could tell that he was lying on the floor. The hard wood flooring stuck to his cheek and behind the large cat the door to Jim's room framed his view. Blair frowned as he failed to come up with any reason why he would be on the ground. The panther liked his face again and events suddenly came back in a rush.

Hedrick at the apartment, Jim attacking Hedrick, Jim leaving…

Blair pushed off the ground with a curse to a sitting position, despite his spinning head, and refocused on the Panther which now remained sitting in front of him. It stared at him with blue eyes, Jim's eyes, he recognized suddenly. With a gasp Blair realized the cat was no remnant delusion from a head injury.

"You're Jim's spirit animal," Blair breathed, hardly daring to speak above a whisper incase the panther disappeared.

Staring at the cat, Blair thought of all the times he'd seen Jim glancing under his desk or muttering under his breath. He'd had his suspicions before but he'd never expected to come face to face with the reality this way.

"But…Jim's gone," Blair said, confused why the panther would still be there, "Shouldn't you be with him?"

The cat pushed itself to sitting upright staring intently into Blair's eyes.

"Unless…you want me to find him," Blair said, starting to feel hope again.

If he had Jim's spirit guide on his side then there wasn't much the Sentinel could do about it.

Blair gingerly pushed himself up to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself against the door frame. He cautiously felt the back of his head, surprised to find a much smaller goose egg than he was expecting. From the head ache he currently had, it felt like it should have been much bigger. The panther waited halfway down the stairs, looking back at him with expectation. Blair slowly followed down hand on the railing to keep from toppling over. He couldn't do anything if he got himself killed falling down the stairs.

A quick scan of the room showed what he already knew, Jim was gone. The clock showed maybe ten minutes had passed since their argument. Dr. Hedrick was still unconscious on the floor. Clearly, Jim had hit him much harder than he had hit Blair.

Blair sunk down to the couch unsure what to do. The panther was hovering near the door, it tail twitching with impatience. Blair looked over. He knew what the cat wanted. It wanted him to go after Jim, talk some sense into the man, and go with him if that failed, but he couldn't think of a way to feasibly do that. He didn't have a car. By now Jim and his truck would be on the highway heading to Heaven knew where. There was no way he could catch up short of stealing a car.

Suddenly, the cat was right in his face, blue eyes staring unblinkingly. Blair jerked back his heart stuttering in his chest at the surprise. He hadn't heard the cat move. Of course, it was a spirit and a panther to boot, didn't get much more stealthy than that. The cat was obviously trying to tell him something, but Blair was new to this whole world of spirits and spirit animals. Jim might have been able to tell what the cat wanted and thinking to some of the ways he'd seen the Sentinel holding muted conversations with the underside of his desk that was more than likely, but he had more experience. He knew what the cues were. Blair was still trying to get over the shock of…everything, not just waking to a spirit licking his face.

The cat growled low in its throat, pulling Blair's eyes down to it.

"What?" he asked, frustration getting the better of him, "I know I need to get to Jim, but how? I'm not going to catch him walking!"

The cat snorted then padded across to the still unconscious doctor, pawing at the man's jacket until a set of keys fell out.

Blair was fairly certain he didn't need a translator for _that_. He got up, still a little unsteady on his feet and followed over to Hedrick. It occurred to him that this could well end his career. Helping a Sentinel hide would be enough but now he could be linked to assaulting Dr. Hedrick, even if he didn't actually do anything. Maybe he'd be able to talk his way out of it, he probably could. Jim had given him a way out if he wanted it. The bump on his head could prove he hadn't helped Jim get away. He could use that to tell the all sorts of things.

The panther was sitting by the door now, looking smug and a little impatient. It obviously knew what Blair was going to do. Looking down at the keys, Blair knew, too. When he'd found out about Jim he didn't turn him in. At first, it was only going to be a temporary thing until he could convince Jim to turn himself in. now he couldn't want that life for Jim. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted that life for any Sentinel. The system was more broken than he could have thought if Sentinels were actively hiding from them, if something like that could happen.

Jaw hardening, Blair bent down and took the keys. _What the Hell_, he thought, he'd always wanted to jack a car.

The panther spun and bounded through the door, Blair following close behind as purpose helped clear his head a little more. Depending on when Hedrick woke up, he had maybe another half hour before the doctor reported his car as stolen and the cops started really looking in earnest. Hopefully he could find Jim before that. He really didn't fancy adding running from the cops to the list he was building. He had a job, though, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him.

SSSSSSSSSSSS

Blair was never going to steal another car in his life. Every police car he saw, every cop on the street he passed, every pedestrian that glanced at him seemed to know he was driving a stolen car. It was like he had a giant neon sign hanging on the door, though every time he checked he couldn't see it. He just waited for the blue lights to appear in his rearview mirror. He didn't know what he would do if that happened, probably slam down on the gas and died in a spectacular fiery crash after a short high-speed chase through the streets of Cascade. There were several tense moments when a cruiser followed him through three stop lights and two turns but they parted ways when Blair got on the highway.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left the city. It was only then that he realized he had no idea where he was going. He'd been so worried about being caught he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. Now, suddenly, he found himself on the highway heading out of the city suburbs. Blair glanced over to see the panther still sitting calmly in the passenger seat. It was gazing intently through the windshield, like it was hunting its prey. Blair felt sorry for Jim all of a sudden.

The cat probably knew where it was going, at least Blair hoped so. He assumed the cat would probably let him know if he made a wrong turn, preferably without biting his head off.

It was miles later the panther did exactly that. Blair had driven into the towering pines that stood past the suburbs and near the mountains. He had driven on the highway with no indication that he was heading in the right direction, but more importantly with no indication he was going the _wrong _way. Until, that is, he passed a small gas station.

The panther snarled bearing its very long teeth and making a tiny lunge at Blair so suddenly Blair jerked, slamming on the brakes and burning the tires on the road. Thankfully there were no cars behind him otherwise he wasn't sure they would have survived. Well, he wasn't sure _he _would survive; Blair corrected himself as he dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel and attempted to get his breath under control. The cat would have probably survived just fine, blast it.

The growling brought Blair's head back up but this time the panther was looking behind them back at the gas station. Its eyes were fixed in that intense stare that reminded Blair a little of Jim. When he thought about it the panther and Jim were actually quite similar, but another growl brought his focus back on the task at hand.

"Right, gas station," Blair said, flicking on his signal and slowly turning in the road to head back. He vaguely wondered when in his life had it come to the point where he was taking direction from a spirit panther.

Blair pulled into the gas station moving at a crawl after his sudden and unpleasant stop in the road. He had a feeling the cat didn't like that very much, but if that was the case then it had to learn not to almost give him a heart attack and cause car wrecks. There weren't many cars at the station. Rush hour was over and the traffic had dwindled down to a trickle. However, pulling into the parking lot, Blair's eyes immediately fell on Jim's truck parked at one of the front spaces of the store. Blair pulled around to the side parking in a less visible space, unsure what his reception would be.

As soon as Blair stopped the car, the panther leapt out, dropping through the door and circling around to wait for him. Blair exited the car slower than the cat. Now that the moment was on him, he wasn't eager to just jump out from behind a building and confronting the Sentinel. Jim _had _knocked him unconscious less than an hour or so ago. Plus, he had no idea what he was going to say to Jim, now that he thought of it. He needed to come up with something good enough to convince Jim to come back or take him too.

Blair edged up to the red brick corner of the building, peering around to the truck. There was no one inside it. The panther strolled out past the corner then turned to look at him. After seeing that Blair wasn't following this time, it seemed to shake its head before trotting around and out of sight. Blair waited a moment, trying to figure out what he was going to say, how he was going to approach the whole confrontation. He wasn't sure what he could say that hadn't been said before, but there had to be something. Perhaps he should be more forceful, put his foot down and refuse to let Jim just leave without him. He couldn't picture that turning out any different than it did in the apartment. Maybe he should just handcuff himself to Jim's truck, then swallow the key. He was still debating between these equally poor options when a voice behind him nearly sent Blair out of his skin.

"What the Hell are you doing here, Chief?"

SSSSSSSS

It had been coming on so gradually Jim didn't notice it. He didn't recognize that tell tale thumping until he saw the house cat stroll out from the side of the building and in through the door. The wolf yipped in delight and bounded to the panther, circling before coming back to Jim.

Jim stopped and glared at the cat. He didn't like the smug look it had on its face at all. "Where have you been?" he asked, just barely remembering to lower his voice. He still received a strange look from the store keeper despite his efforts. "Probably up to no go-"

That was when Jim recognized it. Blair's heart beat right outside the door and around the corner. The damn cat had gone behind his back and ratted him out. Jim ground his teeth, glaring at the cat and then down at the mutt that was panting happily by his side. Both of them were in on it. Well two could play at that game, Jim thought. He didn't appreciate spirit animals trying to plan out his life any more than the Center. He couldn't run from them, but he could at least try and make Sandburg go away. He didn't know how well it would work, but at least he would try.

Turning back around, Jim walked back to the counter and the increasingly suspicious looking clerk. "Do you have a back door to this place?"

The man seemed to hesitate until Jim leveled a glare at him and he pointed to a white painted door with an "EMPLOYEES ONLY" sign hanging from it.

Jim was through the door before the man could even comment. He hurried through a poorly furnished stock and break room. The chairs and table took up most of the free space not taken by boxes of chips and jerky. Jim had to consciously not push the chairs out of his way too hard for fear they would break apart from more abuse. The only other door in the room with a faded red exit sign was stiff to open but he managed without too much sound. He followed the heart beat around to the side.

Blair stood half peering around the corner. Probably waiting for Jim to come out from behind the building and ambush him, Jim thought.

"What the Hell are you doing here, Chief?" Jim asked, taking a perverse sort of pleasure in the way Blair jumped and spun around in surprise.

For a moment, Blair floundered, guilt at being caught apparent on his face. Then he rallied and straightened his shoulders. His face grew hard and his jaw was set, stubbornness rising in every part of him. Jim raised his eyebrows, waiting for the shoe to drop. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Jim," Blair said, then stalled.

"What are you doing here?" Jim asked, jumping into the brief moment of hesitation while Blair tried to think of what else to say.

That seemed enough to prod Blair into continuing. "What do you think?" he asked, "Looking for you! What do you mean just leaving like that? You can't give up so easy!"

Jim shook his head and glanced over to the cat and mutt. The two spirits were sitting nearby watching the growing argument like a tennis match did not help his temper. A car pulled up to the gas pump, camping gear strapped to the roof. Jim jerked his head and led the way to the backside of the store. The woods stood at the edge of the cracked parking lot, a rusty and dirty dumpster the only other thing in the back lot. Jim moved so they were well concealed by the building and then turned to face Blair.

"We already wet over this," Jim ground out when he was sure of their privacy.

"No," Blair said, growing more stubborn by the minute, "You went over it. You took one look of the situation, panicked, and left!"

"You don't understand," Jim said, pacing away, trying to control his temper.

"He was in your home without your permission. He was in the wrong. You could prove that and hold him accountable no matter what he did later on," Blair said, gesturing with his arms.

Jim scowled, forehead furrowed and eyebrows drawn together. "As soon as he told everyone what I am all of that wouldn't have mattered."

"But the law-" Blair started to argue.

Jim cut him off before he got any farther. "The law doesn't matter!" he barely restrained his yell, "The rules are different for people like me. It's an unofficial double standard and the law will get changed soon enough." The last part just came out defeated and seemed to take the anger out of both him and Blair since several moments of silence followed.

"How did you find me?" Jim asked in a heavy voice.

"Actually," Blair said, a little pride showing in his voice, "the panther showed me." He pointed to the cat sitting with a smug smile and staring pointedly at Jim.

For a moment, Jim could only stare. Then, he could only look between Blair and the two animals sitting nearby. "You...you...you can see him?" he finally managed to push out.

"Well, there's two of them now," Blair said, eye the wolf with uncertainty, "Where did the wolf come from? He is with the panther, right?"

Jim continued to stare, unable to string a coherent sentence together. No one had ever seen the panther before, besides him. He didn't know a lot. He barely even understood it, but from what he had read on his own it seemed most people didn't even think spirit animals existed. Certainly, the Guides didn't and the Sentinels just didn't seem to talk about it. Jim thought others might have spirit animals based on the few observations and limited interaction he'd had with others in hiding. Still, he'd never heard of another person seeing someone else's spirit guide. Jim didn't think he liked the idea, at all.

When Jim still failed to answer, Blair shifted from one foot to the other. "The panther is your spirit guide, right?"

Jim nodded almost by rote, still unsure what to say. If Blair could see, what did that mean? He didn't know in the slightest, but he had a sneaky suspicion he wouldn't like the answer when it came to him. "You can see him?" Jim asked again, wanting to be sure, "Both of them?"

Blair nodded, "Yes Jim. I can see him, a huge black panther that could probably rip your throat out if it wanted to and a wolf. Is the wolf yours as well? Can a person have more than one spirit animal?"

Jim didn't want to answer about the wolf; he had a guess whom it belonged to since he already had the house cat. Then, considering that the wolf had shown up shortly after Blair and the two fur balls had conspired to help Blair find so soon after escape, Jim had a very strong guess on who the wolf belonged to, but he didn't want to admit it to himself much less to Sandburg. Instead he just stared at Blair, trying his best to find a way to tackle the situation. Despite all of his planning and preparation for every contingency possible, this one was unprecedented. There had to be a way to make Blair leave, to turn around, use whatever method he had of getting there, and go back to town and let Jim continue on by himself to carve out a new life somewhere else.

Jim blinked, how did Blair get out of town?

"How did you get here?" Jim asked, the non-sequitor came out before he could really stop it, but he didn't mind. It would prolong the looming chat about spirit guides that he was not ready for anyway.

"I told you, the panther," Blair said, rolling his eyes, but Jim was already shaking his head.

"No, no. How did you physically get here? I know the house cat didn't give you a ride on his back."

"House cat?" Blair snorted, eyes going wide, "That's what you call him?"

Jim glared and gestured for Blair to hurry and answer. Blair opened his mouth but another sound filtered in before he could answer. Jim held up his hand to stop the conversation, tilting his head and listening. It was the sound of a police radio reporting on a stolen car. Jim frowned deeper. The report was coming from close by in the parking lot. He moved to the corner of the building and pressed his back against it. He could feel Blair move behind him.

There, around the corner was a police cruiser. It wasn't from Cascade. It was a state cruiser, but that didn't offer any reassurance. The officer was out of the car and taking down the license number of the only car parked on the side of the building. Jim didn't need to ask, he thought he had seen the same car parked in their lot back at the apartment. Still, he opened his mouth and spoke in a hushed voice to Blair right behind him.

"You stole a car, didn't you?"

"Ah," Blair said, all the confirmation needed in that one sound.

"You stole the doctor's car," Jim continued, the final piece falling into place. Blair more than likely didn't know how to boost a car without a key.

"Well, how was I going to follow you?" Blair pushed out in a rush making Jim turn around to face him.

"You were going to stay there and pretend like you didn't know anything about this whole thing. If you had any sense, that is," Jim ground out. He silenced the outraged retort coming from Blair with a hard look. "As it is, I'll have to take you with for a little bit, BUT," he added as Blair's eyes lit up. "Only until we're clear of the police and know they're not blaming you for the car. Have you ridden in the car before?"

Blair thought for a moment then nodded. "The doctor gave me a few rides, but that was before I started working with the police department."

Jim shook his head, "It might be good enough for them to turn their attention to you. I have a police scanner in my truck; we'll track what they're saying until we know for sure."

Jim turned and headed around the building. He ignored Blair following so close; he almost tripped over Jim's heels. Jim ignored the cat sauntering along him with a smug smile and deep purr running in his throat and he ignored the wolf trotting just behind the cat, tail wagging with whiplash speed and tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. He'd carry Blair as far as the next town or two and then he'd dump him. The Guide could catch a cab back to Cascade or go somewhere completely different for all he cared. As far as Jim was concerned, they had already parted ways.

A/N There you are, I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review on your way out. It helps encourage me when I see people are still reading this. ;)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews, alerts, and favorites everyone! I tried to respond to those I could so if I missed you I apologize. This chapter is a little shorter, but there's only one or two chapters after this. I apologize for any errors you may find. And as always, I don't own the Sentinel.

Chapter 15

Jim paused at the opposite front corner of the building. He could see his truck, parked just in front, not too far away. The cruiser was all but hidden from view around the side of the building. Still, it might be prudent to at least go and talk to the trooper, pretend like he was interested in what was happening. At the very least, it could give them another hour or two before suspicions began to run high.

Quickly, Jim developed two possible plans of action. First, they'd try to get out of there unnoticed. Chances were the cop might not even remember what type of truck it was that pulled away. There was no reason to believe a random passerby at the gas station had anything to do with a ditched stolen car. However, if they got stopped and had to talk to the cop, he could pull the friendly fellow servant of the law routine. He'd need an excuse for him and Blair to be out that far, maybe a weekend trip or Blair needed a lift somewhere out of town. Either one would work. Hopefully, Blair would be quick enough to pick up on whatever story he gave and go with it. Though, noticing how much the Guide had grown in his covert skills, Jim had no doubt Blair would play along.

Jim stepped out from behind the building and walked toward his truck, Blair hanging behind for a few moments. He kept his pace slow and casual. His steps didn't falter as the state trooper came into view. The man was squatting down checking over the car out of view around the building before he pushed himself up again and strode into the building. Jim watched him go in from the corner of his eye, pretending to fumble for his keys. He looked over his shoulder to Blair still hanging back and eyeing the bumper of the cruiser and the shop door uneasily. Jim rolled his eyes and jerked his head, encouraging Blair out to the truck. The two spirit guides were following close behind Jim and turned back to stare at Blair.

Jim saw Blair take in a deep breath and start out across to the truck, trying to imitate Jim's casual stride. The wolf trotted over to the Guide's side and walked along side him, tongue lolling as he glance up to Blair. His steps faltered, however, when the trooper reemerged from the store. The cop glanced over to Jim and nodded before coming up to him. Jim nodded back, not smiling, but not scowling. The cop was just doing his job after all, but that didn't mean Jim wouldn't do what was necessary if the time came.

"Evening officer," Jim said as the man approached, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and glancing quickly at the sky. The blue was turning pink and orange at the edge and the sun was brushing the trees.

"Evening," the man said, running his gaze over Jim like only a cop could, "How long have you been here, at this rest stop?"

"About twenty minutes," Jim answered honestly, trying to figure the time in his head. It was much longer than he had planned on staying, but everything had conspired to hold him up and catch him in this mess. "Has something happened?"

The cop looked him over again, assessing him with muted suspicion.

Jim stuck his hand out, "Jim Ellison, I'm a detective with the Cascade PD."

The cop relaxed a fraction and took Jim's hand in a firm handshake. "George Helming," he responded instantly friendlier than the professional politeness.

Blair finally came up behind Jim and stopped beside him, doing his best to be calm and relaxed. Still, Jim could see Blair's shoulders were stiff and his arms were folded tightly around his waist. His heart was beating like a jackhammer, as well. The sound threatened to distract Jim, but he pulled himself back to the parking lot and the conversation, pushing the noise into the background since getting rid of it seemed impossible. He hoped the cop didn't notice Blair's nervousness, though doubted that was the case when the trooper narrowed his eyes at Blair.

"My partner and I were heading out for a weekend fishing," Jim said, hitching a thumb toward Blair, hoping to distract the cop from his close scrutiny of Blair. "But if you need any help we could stick around for a bit."

Trooper George Helming looked back to Jim and smiled. "Nah," he said, waving a dismissive hand and shaking his head. "It's just a stolen car. No damage that I can see. The thief must have dumped it when they realized it had Onstar with the GPS locater."

Jim nodded ignoring Blair's pale face, the two animals sitting on either side of him, and his own racing heart.

"Are you alright?" the cop asked Blair giving him a squinted eye look again, though without the high level of suspicion from before.

"Car sick," Jim said with a roll of his eyes and a vaguely disgusted tone in his voice.

Blair shot him a grimace before obliging the story by wrapping an arm around his stomach and putting the other over his mouth. "I think it was food poisoning," he mumbled through his fingers.

"That wouldn't be surprising either considering the grass you call food," Jim remarked before pointing an accusing finger at him. "You're not getting in my truck till you know you're empty."

The trooper snorted, smothering a laugh at Blair's expense. "Did either of you happen to see a car pull in and park on the side over there?" he asked, turning and pointing back to the corner of the business. "The security cameras were never hooked up so anything you can give me would be a help."

Jim slowly shook his head, pretending to think it over. "No," he said with all honesty, he had been inside when Blair had arrived, after all, "we were a little busy at the time." He gave another pointed look at Blair.

Helming nodded disappointed, "I understand, sister of mine gets the same way. "Well, thanks anyway. I'll be inside talking with the owner if you think of anything." He turned and walked back into the store.

Jim let out a breath of relief. Part of him was surprised it worked while other part knew there really was no reason for the state trooper to suspect them. Blair looked like he would wilt with relief, shoulders sagging and letting out a long breath. The two spirits looked indifferent. Jim shook out his key and started to unlock the truck door.

"Good job, Chief," Jim said with forced casualness, "I almost thought you were car sick myself."

There was silence behind him making Jim turn around. Blair still look just as sick as before, face pale and sweat beading at his hair line. He stood still, hand clenched before him, eyes darting between Jim and the store where the cop had disappeared.

"What is it? Jim asked in a low voice, worried something more was wrong.

"I still have the keys," Blair said, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were now fixed on the door where the state trooper had disappeared.

Jim nodded minutely, suddenly understanding. He ran over their options. They certainly couldn't keep the keys; it was too much of a risk. They could throw them out of the window further down the road. If the keys happened to be found and the trooper remembered them it could raise questions, though. The panther looked at him with a straight gaze and Jim knew he was being paranoid. Still, paranoia had saved his live more than once in the past and the sooner they dumped the keys the better.

"Alright," Jim said, scanning the area, "Go back to the other side of the parking lot by the tree line. Pretend like you're being sick again. Wipe off the keys with your shirt and toss them into the woods as far as you can. Hopefully, if by some miracle they find the keys, they'll think the mysterious car-jacker dumped them there."

Blair wrapped his arms around his stomach and hurried back to the side of the lot where trees met cracked pavement. The wolf trotted happily behind him and plopped down next to the Guide as Blair dropped to his knees. Jim glanced to the store before finally unlocking the truck door and grabbing a bottle of water. He walked toward where Blair was just visible behind the trees, hunched over on the ground the panther trailing after him.

"Tag teaming us, huh?" Jim muttered to the cat, the annoyance was missing from his tone though. A part of him was glad the panther was with him again, though he'd never admit it. Though, from the look the panther shot at him, Jim doubted he needed to.

They came up next to Blair, Jim scanned the parking lot again, satisfied that it was still deserted. Blair was using the edge of his shirt to wipe the keys clean, vigorously rubbing at the metal as though he was polishing it to a high shine. The quick, jerky movements betrayed how nervous the academic was.

"First time stealing a car, Chief?" Jim chuckled. The stress of the situation was starting to wear on him.

"Oh, like you've done it plenty of times," Blaire groused, scowling heavily as he rubbed at the keys.

Jim only smirked, the silence making Blair look again.

"You haven't, have you?" Blair asked beginning to doubt himself.

"You'd like to know," Jim said. His smirk turned into a full grin. He was starting to feel glad that Blair was coming with him. It wouldn't be nearly so lonely and they could watch each other's back. All four of them, Jim mused as he looked down at the two spirit guides sitting on either side of Blair and himself and steadily watching the parking lot and road with all its lack of activity. At least, that would be the case until he and Blair split paths again, though deep down, Jim had a feeling he wouldn't be able to just dump Blair off at the next town like he'd originally thought. He had the sinking feeling that he was stuck with the Guide for longer than that and for some reason, that idea didn't bother him as much as he thought it would.

Jim glanced back at Blair still rubbing diligently at the key ring. "Alright, no need to rub the plating off," Jim said.

"I want to make sure there's no finger prints," Blair returned, but carefully took it by his shirt and threw it as far into the underbrush as possible.

"Don't worry, they probably won't even find the keys," Jim said, handing Blair the bottle of water. "Hell, I'd be surprised if they even bothered looking, not for a simple stolen car that was recovered in the same condition. This is all just a precaution in case Hedrick gets his panties in a twist and insists."

Blair stared at the bottle of water, a frown on his face.

"Rinse your mouth out," Jim said, turning away and back toward the lot, "You want to stay in character, even when you think no one's watching."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair said with a roll of his eyes, but started sloshing and spitting out water.

Jim moved to the edge of the woods. The panther came up beside him scanning the parking lot with wide, attentive eyes. It sat tense and still, gaze returning to the road every few seconds. Jim frowned down at the cat. "What's wrong with you?" he asked and put his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxing slowly despite the tension leaking in from the cat. "You got what you wanted. I probably won't be able to get rid of him anytime in the foreseeable future. I'm even starting to be glad he's here, which is _really_ what you wanted so there's no reason for you to be all tense… Is there?"

The cat didn't acknowledge him, just continued to stare stiffly down the road.

Jim rolled his shoulders trying to block out the tension rolling in from the cat. He had a bad feeling creeping up on him and he didn't want to think about it. He was tired of things going wrong that day. "Fine," he said in a grumble, "be that way."

"Are you talking to the panther?" Blair asked coming up behind him and sipping from what remained in the water bottle.

"Oh like you haven't," Jim muttered back, scrubbing his face with a hand trying to hold to his good mood from a moment earlier, "I bet you were talking to him the entire drive up here."

"Not really," Blair mumbled besides raising his voice, "Besides I never expected him to answer back."

Jim rolled his eyes and glanced over to Blair to make sure he was finished. "Just wait," he said, eyes falling down to the wolf sitting by Blair's side. He frowned as he saw the mutt sitting upright and tense, ears perked and listening. That couldn't be a good sign. He frowned and turned back to the parking lot just in time to see another car pulling into the lot. A second look made Jim's stomach drop and the breath freeze in his chest.

The markings were clear and easy to read, especially since he immediately zoomed in on the seal emblazoned large on the side doors. "Guide and Sentinel Center Security" was written in large letters arching over the seal and across the front hood of the car. Though he'd only seen him once, Jim easily recognized Dr. Hedrick sitting in the front seat along with two of the Center's security guards, one driving and the other in the back. Jim felt his blood run cold. He stood, unable to move, as he watched the car pull in and park on the side next to Blair's stolen car.

Blair said something behind him, but Jim wasn't listening. He was frantically trying to think what he could do next and nothing was coming to mind. Jim's truck was sitting right there for all the world to see. Then the stolen car sitting in the parking lot next to the store, a child could figure it out. The doctor knew who had taken his car, knew what Jim's truck and the car would mean. It was plainly obvious and the man wasn't stupid. All the doctor had to do was walk into the store and tell the cop who suspected of having stolen his car. Trooper Helming would have no choice but to bring Blair in, it was procedure.

But the doctor wouldn't have to stop there, he had two of the Center's security guards with him. He could have them bring Jim into the Center for tests based on his suspicions. It wasn't legal by any stretch of the imagination, but Jim had seen it before. He clearly remembered the night his neighbor had been taken away, protesting loudly and at the top of his lungs about his civil and legal rights. Despite all that, Jim had never seen or heard from his neighbor again.

The only chance Jim could see was getting to the truck and slipping away before anyone could notice. They could distance between then and the gas station then dump the truck and find an alternate means of transportation.

Jim had just gotten his feet moving toward the car, convinced his numb legs to step out, when Hedrick rounded the corner and spotted him. They both stopped dead in their tracks, eyes locking onto one another. Jim felt the blood drain from his face and the breath leave his lungs. For a moment, they just stood staring at one another. Then, a triumphant, almost predatory grin spread across Hedrick's face and Jim heard the doctor mutter under his breath, "Got you."

Any and all plans he had made for slipping quietly way shattered, and Jim did the only thing that seemed to penetrate into his brain. He ran.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

For a moment, Blair wasn't entirely sure what had happened. One moment they were walking to the truck and they next Jim had froze. He called the man's name with an implied question asking what was wrong. When Jim didn't answer he looked down to the spirit guides that were loosely flanking either side, but both panther and wolf were fixed in the same tense stance as his friend. Then, suddenly, Jim spun and took off into the woods again at a dead run. It wasn't until Blair looked up toward the store and saw Hedrick running toward them that he understood what must have happened. It wasn't a moment after that Blair was tearing after Jim, diving into the woods and dodging trees, right behind the panicked sentinel.

The terrain turned rough, rocks and roots poking through leaves that hid the uneven forest floor. The ground angled upward in an ever-steepening slope, a preview of the mountainous landscape miles down the road. The light of the dropping sun cast long shadows through the woods. Blair could barely keep sight of Jim as he dodged through the trees. The leaves and branches blocked the way ahead and clawed at Blair's arms and face. He could hear Hedrick crashing after them over his own rough breathing.

The rush of adrenaline brought on by the chase pushed Blair forward, despite his burning lungs and racing heart. Dimly, he registered surprise at Jim's sudden flight. The man was methodical in everything his did, calm and steady in times of stress, but then he remembered how Jim had reacted toward anything that dealt with even the possibility of his senses coming to light and the reaction made more sense. The train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt, however, when Blair took a wrong step. He stumbled over the uneven ground and tumbled to his knees. He was only down for few seconds, hands catching his fall and scraping painfully over the dirt rocks, before he was up again and back on the chase.

Still, the fall gave Hedrick enough chance to catch up and over take him. Blair's heart rate spiked at the thought of a full out fight with the doctor, but Hedrick clearly wasn't interested in him. The man simply sped past and aimed straight after Jim. Blair tried to keep up, unsure of what would happened when they all finally ran out of energy to run anymore, but found himself slowly lagging behind. His knee protested painfully from the continued use and glancing down Blair could see the pant leg ripped open and bloody.

A few more minutes and Blair couldn't see any sign of the doctor or Jim. Only the faint sound of leave and branches being disturbed from their usual peace gave the chase away. The noise was soon lost beneath Blair's ragged breath. He stumbled to a halt, placing both hands on his knees as he bent over to reclaim his breath. He winced at the pain in his knee, already coming more to the fore of his awareness, but he pushed it aside, cursing his luck and his inability to help Jim at the moment, though how he would do that he wasn't quite sure.

Blair didn't let that thought deter him, though, as soon as he gained his breath back he straightened up and took off, limply jogging again in the direction the two had gone. A ghost of gray between the trees caught Blair's eye and he recognized the wolf. It glanced back toward him before moving forward again at an urgent pace. Blair clenched his teeth and increased his speed to keep up. It was only a couple minutes when he heard the sharp cry cut through the trees. Blair immediately forgot the pain in his knee and increased his pace even more. That cry had sounded like Jim!

Blair burst out of the woods suddenly, coming out into a relatively clear area, the ground leveled out some before cutting off in a sheer drop to one side. The shadows forming in the trees immediately dropped away, as well, lightening the area. Blair didn't take in any of this landscape in detail, though. His eyes immediately focused on to Jim, laying on the ground and twitching with convulsions. Another moment went by as Blair stared when he realized Jim was being shocked by a tazor, Dr. Hedrick on the other end with a grim look on his face.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Blair cried in alarm, momentarily frozen by what he was seeing.

Hedrick shot a glare at Blair as the shock finally ended leaving Jim panting on the forest floor. "I could ask you the same thing!" he said, anger and betrayal in his voice, "You know what's at stake here, Blair! Or maybe you don't. His kind can't be allowed to put themselves at risk, there's too few of them already! They have to be kept safe!"

"And keeping him safe is attacking him with a _tazor?" _Blair retorted his eyes wide with shock unable to see the pattern of logic.

Hedrick waved a dismissive hand, "He was running away. The shock won't hurt him permanently. It's better he's caught now, than getting himself killed later on because he can't sufficiently look after his own needs."

Jim swore under gasping breath, struggling to sit up. Next to him the panther was crouched down, a dangerous predator cornered and ready to strike back. It snarled at Hedrick, the angry sound mixing with growls from the wolf, standing near Blair, though the doctor couldn't see or hear the spirits. Blair moved toward Jim determined to help him, but he pause when Hedrick called, "STOP." The man raised the tazor higher in the air, the threat implicit.

"This is insane!" Blair said, hands apart as he tried to reason with the man. He didn't know what a tazor could do to a sentinel, but it couldn't be healthy, despite what Hedrick said. "You can't just force people to accept your help and protection if that's what you want to call it."

"Do you want to be explaining to you grandchildren why there used to be people called sentinels with amazing abilities, but that they died out because we didn't take care of them properly?" Hedrick threw back, his voice insistent one arm thrown wide. "Who will fill their role in society when they're gone?"

"You can't sacrifice an entire demographic of people for the sake of society!" Jim rasped, his voice loud in the otherwise quiet clearing. There was no discernible wind at the moment, though the clouds high above scudded across the sky. Jim glared at Hedrick, his words seeming to echo in the silence that followed.

"We're not sacrificing anyone," Hedrick denied shaking his head, "We're protecting you."

"Bullshit!" Jim growled, sounding surprisingly like his panther, at the same time as Blair said, "Nonsense!"

Blair eyed the two other people in the clearing, trying to find the best course to take. Jim had finally gotten to a sitting position and moved to take out the hooks from the tazor.

"I wouldn't," Hedrick warned, hoisting the tazor higher. Jim ignored the warning and continued to free himself. So the doctor pulled the trigger sending another jolt of electricity coursing through the sentinel.

Blair jerked at the Jim's scream of pain. "STOP!" Blair yelled, but Hedrick didn't listen, eyes focused on the sentinel on the ground before him. Before Blair realized what he was doing, he ran to the doctor and attempted to wrench the tazor from the man's control. They fought over control of the weapon, jarring each other off balance and stumbling around. Hedrick jammed his elbow into Blair's midsection and Blair responded by knocking Hedrick off his feet. The tazor flew from Hedrick hands but the man grabbed Blair and dragged him down as well.

They rolled across the leaves trying to get the upper hand. Hedrick flailed for the lost tazor and Blair trying to prevent his finding it. From nearby, Blair heard Jim shout something, but couldn't make it out in the midst of his own fight. The wolf nearby barked and he felt its jaws clamp down on his leg. He cried out more from surprise than pain and jerked back.

The movement pushed Hedrick away and suddenly the doctor cried out before he plummeted away. Blair stared in confusion at first, then he realized in their struggle they had rolled to the edge of the cliff. He looked at the point where Hedrick had been just a moment before, then scramble over to the edge peering over far enough to see the doctor. It wasn't far to the bottom. But the large rocks scattered across the ground made the fall dangerous. In Hedrick's case it had been fatal if the angle of the neck and other limbs were to be believed. Blair felt Jim come up behind him and the wolf come to his other side, but he couldn't take his eyes off the body Dr. Hedrick; his mind caught on the one thought, _what have I done?_

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

AN: There it is. I hope you liked it and it was worth the wait. Next chapter will probably be the last. Please leave a review on the way out and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

A/N Last chapter and you didn't have to wait half a year to get it! Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, especially skeptic7 and her insight into the legal aspect of everything. It helped a lot when I was looking at all the angles their problem had. This chapter isn't Beta'd so any mistakes are my own I apologize for any that are in here. I don't own any of the Sentinel.

Chapter 16

Jim looked over the edge at the twisted and broken body of Dr. Hedrick. It wasn't that far of a fall, not really. People had fallen from higher heights and survived, but sometimes it didn't take a long fall to kill a man. If he landed in just the right way, falling out of a chair or off a ladder would be enough and Hedrick had fallen the right way. Jim could tell even without his keen sight that the man's neck was broken. The rocks at the bottom of the small cliff hadn't helped him any either.

Jim had never been a man to revel in death. Out of necessity and duty he'd killed men while in the army and again while in service of the police force. He didn't like it, but he understood it. This time, however, while staring down at the twisted and crooked neck, the wide staring eyes, and surprise etched face, Jim felt only an immense wave of relief sweep through him. Hedrick was gone and with him the main danger to both him and Blair. Looking down at Blair's stricken face, though, Jim couldn't help but feel sorry, not for the doctor's death, but that it had been Blair that essentially caused it.

Jim ran a hand down his face. He was still hurting from the taser. A headache was throbbing across his forehead and his muscles still jumped and twitched minutely beneath his skin. His heart pounded with uncomfortable intensity and Jim tried to convince himself that he only imagined the beat to be slightly irregular. All in all he was a mess, physically speaking.

Blair, however, he was a mess emotionally speaking.

Jim glanced down at the man kneeling at the edge of the drop, hands propping him up and looking down over the ledge. Blair was motionless, with the look of a man who couldn't believe what he was seeing. Jim thought he could hazard a guess that Blair probably hadn't been in a fight that went anywhere past the use of words much less resulted in the death of someone he knew, a colleague if not a friend. He reached down and took Blair by the shoulder and pulled him away from the edge. He drew the guide back closer to the edge of the woods. The wolf followed them, taking up a position next to Blair when they had finally stopped.

Jim looked at the dog and pointed a finger to Blair, "Stay and watch him."

The wolf just sniffed then sneezed as if to say, "You had to ask?"

Turning back to the edge, Jim moved to join the panther which was still peering over the edge looking at the body. It looked up to Jim, a glint in its bright blue eyes as it licked its chops.

Jim rolled his eyes and said in a low voice so Blair couldn't hear, "You're a spirit, you don't even eat."

The panther growled a bit but cocked his head to one side. Jim looked up toward the way they'd come, there was footsteps heading their way as well as voices. The sounds wavered in and out, probably courtesy of the after effects of the blasted taser. It was difficult to tell how close the sounds really were. He had to come up with an explanation and fast.

"I'm trying to figure that out," Jim said annoyed, "We can't hide the body, that would only be suspicious. He did attack us so there's a clear case of self defense here, but I don't want to get bogged down in the courts. I'd probably only get dragged off to the Center at the end of it anyway. Maybe an accident, there's clear signs of a struggle, but depending on how we spin it…" Jim trailed off thinking quickly.

The night was quickly descending and the day had been entirely too long for his liking. The adrenaline was draining out of his system and, coupled with the remaining effects of the taser, Jim didn't feel like doing anything but curling up on a comfortable bed and falling asleep. He dragged a hand down his face and cupped his chin as he forced his mind off his fatigue and onto the problem at hand. He'd worked under the gun like this before with more at stake than living the rest of his days in an institution.

The sounds grew louder, enough that even Blair could hear them, drawing the other man out of his shock. "Jim…" Blair said the worry plain in his voice.

Jim just shook his head and realizing Blair probably couldn't see him added in a low voice, "Let me do the talking."

Not a moment after he had spoken the two guards from the Center burst from the trees, closely followed by officer Helming. They had flashlights to cut through the gloom of the forest, though the lights would soon be needed for the clearing, as well. Helming swept the scene with the profession eye of a trained cop, staying out of the center of everything until he knew what was happening. The other two security guards didn't have the same reserve and immediately moved into the clearing, one going near Blair and the other to the cliff where Jim was standing. The man looked over and his light fell on the doctor's broken and lifeless body. He looked from the body to Jim, suspicion thick in the brown eyes.

"He's dead!" the guard said, half surprise and half accusation.

Helming moved swiftly to their side and shone his own light at what remained of the doctor. He looked up to Jim with a stern question, waiting for an explanation.

Then Jim had a stroke of genius.

"What happened here?" Helming asked, his voice back in the business tone of a cop on duty.

"He fell," Jim said, "Buying a little time to solidify his excuse in his mind. "I saw a man down at the parking lot and thought he looked suspicious, maybe your carjacker. When I tried to get the man's attention he bolted so I chased after him. My partner and the doctor here followed me. I almost lost track of him but when I got into this clearing he jumped me. There was a fight, Blair and the doctor came in a moment later. The doctor tried to shoot him with a taser he had but ended up hitting me instead. The suspect turned on him and Blair and during the scuffle he went over the cliff. Unfortunately, the suspect got away in the confusion and with me on the ground from the shock. He ran off into the trees, probably long gone by now."

Through the story Helming was weighing up what Jim said, testing it against the logic check that went with all true stories. He looked thoughtful, peering down the cliff to the body. Though Jim's eyesight was wavering, too, flitting between enhanced in the night and normal, he had the feeling the trooper was buying his story. The Guard, on the other hand seemed to be getting angrier as the minutes passed. When Jim finally finished the guard apparently couldn't control himself any longer.

"You're not seriously believing this!" he cried waving a hand at Jim.

Helming drew his eyes off the bottom of the cliff and instead trained them on the guard. "It's none of your concern whether I believe it or not. I don't recall you having any authority here."

"You are!" the guard accused, leveling an incredulous look at the state trooper. "You're really taking this cock and bull story he's handing you!"

Helming rolled his eyes, a wide enough gesture that it could be seen even with the failing light. "I am not taking anything at the moment, not until I have more information. Unless you have an accusation to make or something helpful to add I suggest you put a sock in it."

Jim kept his face impassive, a slight frown on his mouth and emotionless expression giving nothing away, though the low light made the strict control of his features unnecessary. The security guard was looking at him with open suspicion, the narrowed eyes sizing him up in the fading light. Jim turned his gaze fully on the guard, daring him to do something, say something, accuse something. He might still be on shaky ground, and the guard might well have an idea of what Jim was, but he was a rent-a-cop. He didn't have any position to accuse Jim of anything. The doctor would have had the weight but not a lackey like this.

No, this guard didn't pose a threat, at the moment. Maybe later, when the man had time to think and go through the evidence in his mind, but, Jim reminded himself, this was a security guard, not a detective. Not even a real policeman. Just a rent-a-cop, like he'd noted before. Jim could weasel and talk his way out of this.

Helming nodded toward Blair, an unasked question in his eyes.

Jim nodded, leaning closer, "He'll be alright. Still new to the force, hasn't seen many dead bodies."

The trooper nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, that takes a while to get used to," he agreed quietly before speaking up again, "You should probably get him home. Stay close to a phone in case I need to contact you, though. If I don't call you later tonight, I'll definitely call you tomorrow or the following day for a follow up."

"Will do, sir," Jim said with a thankful nod, he reached into his pocket and fished around pulling out a stray card with his name number and department from when he interviewed witnesses, "If you need help with any of this just let me know, you have my contact info."

Helming took the card and nodded. Jim turned and moved back to Blair, gently pulling him up by the arm. The wolf whined, but nobody heard it but the two of them. The other guard from the center helped, not nearly as suspicious as his partner, or at least, not showing it.

"Wait!" the guard from the Center spoke up in an angry voice, "You not just letting them go, are you?"

Helming gave the man an annoyed glance before ignoring the question completely. He turned to his radio and called for assistance with removing the body and processing the scene.

"The doc's dead and you're letting the two primary suspects _go_?" the guard cried, his voice rising in pitch and anger.

Jim looked over and had to concentrate to zoom in on the name pinned to the man's shirt, Charles Grunwald. When he was finished he felt more light-headed than he had before and wondered if it really had been worth the effort just to know who the man was.

"Not to mention," Grunwald continued with a heavy dose of sarcasm mixing into his voice and an accusing finger pointed at Jim, "We have reason to suspect _that man_ is an unregistered sentinel! You have to take him in!"

And just like that, nice trooper Helming was gone. "Look pal," the cop said, aggravation clear in his voice, "I don't give a damn if he's the tooth fairy. As far as I can see he hasn't done anything illegal here. If it shows that the doctor's death was anything other than accidental we'll call both the detectives in for further questioning. However, at this moment I can see no reason in keeping them around for an accident."

"BUT HE WAS GETTING AWAY!"

"Were you illegally pursuing this man?" Helming asked a note of accusation in his voice. "Whether you realize it or not, being a sentinel in this country isn't a crime, not yet, and as such it is no reason for me to bring him in. Illegally taking custody of someone because they're a Sentinel _is _a crime, however. Are you telling me that that was you intention upon coming out here?" the trooper's eyes narrowed and glared at the guard in front of him, a glare fully worthy of a cop with his patience at its end.

Grunwald glared right back, jaw working and face turning red. "No," he finally gritted, then after a moment, "I'll be making a full report on this to the Center when I get back."

Helming nodded his head, "You do that, but stick around first, I want to ask you a few more questions."

Grunwald looked ready to kill someone as he stared between Helming and Jim, but he kept his mouth closed. Apparently, he wasn't so sure of his position and he knew enough of his own authority that he wasn't going to make any other demands.

Jim looked up from where he was helping Blair. The man was white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf. "He's staying at my place for the time being so you can reach both at the number on the card." Jim said to Helming.

The trooper nodded and patted the pocket he'd tucked the contact information into; then said, "Be careful going down that trail; it's dark and I don't want to have to send out a search and rescue along with the body recovering team….or organize a man hunt. Do you need a light?"

Jim shook his head. "Don't worry, we'll find our way."

"Better take clown two with you," Helming said, gesturing his light toward the second unnamed Center security cop. "You," Helming said directed to the guard, "Make sure they get down alright, then wait for the body recovery guys and show them the way up."

"Yeah, sure," the second guard said with a shrug. He sounded considerably less upset than Grunwald at Dr. Hedrick's death. He turned and shone his light into the woods, pointing out the way ahead.

Jim followed behind, keeping one hand on Blair's elbow and one eye on both Blair and the guard. Blair was turning a delicate shade of green, probably a reaction to the adrenaline leaving his system and a slow realization that he had partly killed a man.

They walked in silence for several minutes. The woods were dark and quiet except for their footfalls in the underbrush. A few times Blair inhaled next to him as though he was getting ready to say something, but Jim squeezed his arm and shook his head. The guard led the way moving slowly with the flashlight beam pointed mainly at the ground several yards ahead. Occasionally, he looked back at the two of them then turned around and focused his attention back on the trail. Jim glared at the man's back, something about the guard putting Jim on edge but he was too tired to work it out.

It was another several minutes before they could see the lights of the gas station through the trees. Jim glanced over to Blair to see how he was doing, which wasn't very well. The man was shaky, pale and green around the edges. Blair lurched a moment before pulling himself out of Jim's arm and throwing himself back to the forest floor to empty his stomach. Jim stood behind him rubbing his back as he heaved again.

The sight made the guard hesitated a few yards away. "Is he going to be ok?" the guard asked as hesitant as his shuffling feet.

"Yeah," Jim said in a short reply and waited for Blair to feel up to walking again.

Another moment of silence stretched out before the guard spoke up again with a deep breath. "Look," he said, with another quick glance behind him, "I'm sorry about Chuck. I don't really know what was going on this afternoon, Dr. Hedrick never really said anything besides vague hints, but I can guess. He and Chuck were friends. They held a lot of the same opinions and ideas about how the way things should be. Just because they felt that way doesn't mean we all do, but…enough people in high enough places agree with that sort of thing-"

They had reached the edge of the woods and the guard had stopped just outside of the circle of light from the security lights. His voice had picked up in speed until he stopped short, not able or willing to finish the thought.

"What's your point?" Jim snapped angry about everything that had happened that night, but to have the man in front of him, wearing a Center uniform, trying to make _excuses _for the Dr. and his friend was just one step too far.

The man didn't say anything for a long minute. He just stood there, shuffling his feet in the dead foliage, regret or perhaps shame written on his face. "I'm…not quite sure," he said, hesitating before carrying on, "I guess I'm just trying to say we don't all feel that way. I'm a Guide, or I would be if there were any Sentinels available. Still, I don't want to force someone to be my Sentinel, I'd rather it be their choice. Dr. Hedrick and Chuck, they're not Guides or Sentinels, they don't understand what it's like, but they're the ones in power and calling the shots. I wish there was something I could do, but there isn't, not that I can see and people who have tried to go up against them in the courts or somewhere else get buried alive."

"Well, I suggest you figure out something to do, because I doubt it will be long before they start trying to control Guides as much as they control Sentinels," Jim bit out, no sympathy for the man standing in front of him. He was as much of the problem as the people in charge making the policies.

The guard stared at Jim as if he hadn't thought of that particular idea. Then shame crept into his eyes again and he nodded.

Jim didn't wait for anything else from the man. He was through listening to crackpot philosophical views and excuses. He pushed past the guard, leading Blair just in front of him. The two spirit animals followed the entire way, one on either side. When Jim unlocked the truck, the wolf bounded in the foot well of the front seat then set his head in Blair's lap when the Guide was in place. The panther just slinked into the back seat and lay down, looking out between the driver and passenger seats. Jim made sure Blair was buckled in safely before circling around to the driver's side and climbing behind the wheel. He didn't turn on the engine right away, but sat a moment, letting the last of the tension run out of his body. Now that he had a moment, the on edge feeling he'd been getting from the guard had been that the man was a Guide. Not that it mattered now anyway, but for future reference it could be important since it seemed they would be staying in Cascade for a little bit longer than planned.

Jim glanced over to Blair. He still hadn't said anything, didn't seem to be taking in much of the world around him at all. Jim shook his head and started the engine, pausing before throwing it into gear. "You going to be alright?" he winced at the question. It really wasn't time for a question like that, but he'd never been good at comforting grown men.

Blair slowly turned to look at him, some of the green was gone, but he was still pale and shaky. "Lord, Jim, what he did to you. He could have _killed _you….and what he wanted to do. I'm not sure which is worse." There was another moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper and tears leaking from his eyes, "I killed him."

"Yeah," Jim said equally quiet. Trying to deny it wouldn't help in the long run, it would probably only make the hurt last longer. Blair wasn't in the state to listen to the facts of the situation right then. They'd take care of that when they got back to the apartment and had a drink in each of their hand, preferably something strong.

Jim clapped one hand on Blair's shoulder and the wolf whined softly. The panther only looked on with the silent blue eyes, but Jim thought he could see a measure of satisfaction in its expression as he glanced in the rearview mirror. He shook his head and threw the truck into reverse. He thought back to the guard they'd left standing in the middle of the parking lot, a Guide without a Sentinel and a man without a backbone, afraid to stand up against something he knew was wrong. How many Guides out there were like that? Then, there was Hedrick and Grunwald. Men who wanted power and control, who had convinced themselves they knew what was best for an entire group of people and were willing to force it on them.

Jim looked over to Blair's dark figure as they pulled out on to the road and headed back home to Cascade. He'd take care of Blair like the Guide had taken care of him when he was sick. It was what friends did for one another and he actually found he was looking forward to it. He was suddenly very grateful Blair was neither of those things. Not a coward or an ignorant who was willing to go along with what others were saying because they were too afraid to speak up or too lazy to figure it out. Not a tyrant or an owner, someone who forced another to bend to their will through some false sense that they knew what was right. Jim didn't need a keeper like that; he didn't need a keeper at all.

No, Jim Ellison didn't need or want a keeper, but he'd take a friend.

The End….for now

A/N: Well, that's it. I hope you all liked this story and find the ending satisfying. I do have a possible sequel started. It's in the planning stages and I won't start posting it until I get a large chunk of it written to avoid long waits between updates. If people show a lot of interest in a sequel I'll move it higher up my priorities list. Thanks for sticking with me everyone who did! Leave me a review and tell me what you think when you go. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on the story, a possible sequel, the weather, anything, so don't forget to review! ^_^


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